


The Straight Simplicity of Eve

by blueroanmare



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Kilmeny of the Orchard, L M Montgomery
Genre: F/M, First Love, Friends to Lovers, L M Montgomery - Freeform, Love Confessions, Prince Edward Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueroanmare/pseuds/blueroanmare
Summary: This is a rewrite of my favourite book ever from Kilmeny's point of view. Kilmeny Gordon is a beautiful girl who has led a very isolated life. She believes herself ugly for her strange mother had told her so. But one day, she meets a man in her orchard, and a friendship blossoms. How will Kilmeny grow and mature as she learns from Eric? Will this grow to become love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first L M Montgomery fanfic! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

 

I never thought myself lonely in my life. If you had asked me whether I had ever been lonely, I would have told you no. I had my music, my slate, my trees, my uncle and Aunt, and Neil. I missed Mother, of course, but in truth, I had been a little afraid of her. Of course I loved her. There was no question about that.

But no, I wasn't lonely. I had my chores to keep me busy, and my precious, precious violin when I was not. Sometimes though, I wished for several things. For one, I wished I were not so ugly. I hated ugly things. They destroyed something inside me and it hurt when things were ugly. It hurt to know I was ugly. Mother said so, so it must be true. Mother wouldn't tell me a falsehood, would she? So yes, I am ugly. And several times I could see my reflection in the silver spoons or the sugar bowl Aunt Janet had, and my visage was indeed terrible to look upon. I do not understand how my family could stand to look at me, but of course, they must be used to me. One can get used to anything, I suppose.

I had another wish, but it was one more of convenience. I wished that I could carry on conversations with my family. I was born not being able to speak. It's a long sad story that I shall not tell now. Of course I had my slate that I could write quickly and neatly on, but sometimes thoughts and ideas crowd my head, and there isn't enough time to write them all down, and letters seem slow and cumbersome. Though sometimes Aunt Janet says that "silence is golden". I suppose she means that some folks do too much talking and not enough listening. Well, I certainly do enough listening.

Anyway, I was certainly happy. My music was all I needed. My violin did all the speaking needed for me. I could make it be happy or sad, or melancholy or joyful, or just anything I was feeling at the time. I remember the day Neil showed me his violin. His large hands on top of my very small ones at the time and showing me how to hold the bow. He really only had to show me a few times before I understood how to play. And then… my soul took off! I could express more in my music than I could with blank words on a silly slate. There, I could put in feelings, expression, movement, and… yes, my very soul into every note. I felt free when I played. I could sit there and play for a very long time.

My favourite place to play was in the old apple orchard. I loved that place like I loved my violin. It spoke to me. The old place felt as much like home to me as my own dear room did. Of course, it was really not our orchard. It used to belong to the Conners, but they haven't been there in years. So it is ours, or mine, I should say, since I was the one who frequented it so often. There is a dear little bench among some lilacs where I loved to sit. It was the perfect place to play my violin. I would sit there and let the music flow, any old thing that came to my head and make it into music. I am so fond of that orchard that I consider it to be a friend of mine. It has as many moods as I do. Sometimes it was brooding and pensive, sometimes it was joy incarnate, sometimes as roguish as a kitten, and sometimes I couldn't read it at all. But always it was charming.

I had just turned eighteen recently, and I snuck another look at the sugar bowl this morning, hopeful to see if perhaps age had improved my looks any. I had to give another sigh, for the reflection was the same as the last time I had seen it, and could not help wince at how ugly I was. I quickly looked away from it, wanting to forget, but that deep hurt was always there. It was sad to be so ugly, and I didn't like to be around people for that very reason. I didn't like their stares so. I remember once going out with Aunt Janet to see the peddler, for I was interested in his wares and, truth be told, meeting him. And oh! He stared at me so much. Then I knew. I was horrible looking. So never again! Never again would I inflict that on other people. There was too much beauty in the world to ruin it like that.

Giving a shake of my head, I quickly helped Aunt Janet with the breakfast. I was very good at this, and she was pleased with me. I was glad to please her, as I knew she liked my help. Then she told me to go get Uncle, and I ran down to the barn to get him, first patting the horse and giving her a soft kiss on her nose. I don't know anything softer than a horse's nose, and I like kissing it. Aunt Janet thought it silly, but Uncle had only smiled and his eyes twinkled as he told me that he would never tell. I ran to him now and tugged on his sleeve, pointing at the house. He understood and said, "Just a minute, Kilmeny. I just need to put the milk in the creamery."

Nodding, I looked around for Neil, but Uncle said, "He's out with his friends this morning. I wish he were here to help with the chores, but I can manage on my own for today. He'll help tomorrow, that you may be sure of, lass." I was disappointed, for I had found Neil different of late. He'd been gone more and more out into that great big world in which I'd never been to. He was leaving me behind! And anyways, for some reason, I was finding things awkward between us where it never had been before. I could not understand why, and when I asked him, he would not explain. I suppose he had other interests, but I missed the way things were before. He was like an older brother to me, even though we were not related.

Neil's story… it's rather a romantic story, I like to think. A sadly romantic story. See, a gypsy man came to the house, his wife heavy with child. She gave birth to wee Neil. That was before I was born. Tragically, she died in childbirth, and the gypsy, so stricken with grief, left behind a grave and a baby. Uncle and Aunt are kind souls and would not give the baby to an orphanage, as others had advised them to. I was glad to know that right from the beginning they were so kind to Neil. He can sing so very well, that sometimes it makes me jealous to hear him. He can do all kinds of things with that deep voice of his that I can never do. We would sit and make music together, but he has stopped doing that lately. I wonder if it's because he's so used to his friend looking a great deal better than I do, and it gives him a break from my ugliness. Well, if that's the case, then I don't mind.

Uncle came in shortly and sat down at the table. He gave the blessing then we began to eat. It was all very delicious and healthy. Then afterwards, Aunt and I cleaned up the dishes while Uncle finished the chores he had left. I found out that he was also going to look over the fields and plan for the crops. I went with him to get a good walk in, and I loved listening to him anyway. He was always so kind to me, and would tell me things. I felt that he wished that I would try and go see the village of Lindsay, but I was still adamant. No one should see me. I was happy the way I was. Why ruin it?

He sighed but then turned his attention to the great rolling red fields. Something about their rich colour satisfied something in me. I wanted to run and dance, but stayed in stride with Uncle Thomas. I was always glad for his company, although I understood he was busy with the farm. The wind brought the scent of spring, laden with blossoms. It smelled like the very wind of heaven, and I wondered briefly if Mother smelled this all day long. If so, it must be very nice there.

I went around the farm doing various chores. I had to feed the hens and ducks, sweep the house, and today I cleaned the windows. I like doing that, making things pretty. It gives me such satisfaction to take something dirty and then leave with it shiny and far better than before. I finally finished everything and had the rest of my day free. It would be evening soon, and I only had one place in mind: the old orchard. I took my violin, not bothering to take my slate with me, for with whom was I going to speak? It would be only myself and the birds and flowers and trees. And they do not speak with the throat as other people do, but instead in whispers and twitters, and sighs. The music of nature itself.

I could have found my way to my bench with my eyes closed, but I smiled in delight at what my eyes saw. The orchard looked bewitched, what with the apple trees heavily laden with flowers. The buds on the lilacs were starting to open, and their scent mixed in with the apple one in a perfumed air. I giggled silently as I saw a rabbit poke its nose out of a rose bush and hop about. I didn't move as I didn't want to scare it. Likely it was a mother rabbit. I hoped I'd see the baby rabbits later on when they learned how to eat grass. Eventually, the rabbit moved away and I picked up my bow and snuggled my violin under my chin.

Taking a deep breath, I laid the bow on the strings and looked around me. The day was so full of many things, and I translated it in the only way I knew how. I played. I told of the sighing of the wind, the ghostly whisper of the grass, the white thoughts of the June lilies, the way the apple blossoms laughed and swung on their branches, and the soul of the orchard as it showed itself to me. It had once been a place of laughter and tears, songs and games, walks all alone in despair, and something else that I could not have put into words if I tried. But I did not try. I just let the notes pour out of me and my soul felt like it was as high as the blue bird I could see floating above the trees.

I was full of pretty thoughts and dreams, and let my mind wander to the hills of dreamland, playing half-unconsciously, letting my fingers and arm do the work. Presently, I felt myself come into the the present body, as if I had really left and walked in other lands, like my namesake. My eyes went from the pale pink blossoms of a tree to a figure underneath the tree.

A man! I sprang from my seat, bow slipping to the grass unconsciously as I gripped my old brown violin with a death grip. Horror and terror of the man swept through me. Who was he? How long had he been there? He'd been watching me! And… and… what must he think of me! I trembled on the spot, finding myself quite unable to move for sheer fright.

He spoke something to me… I didn't quite catch what it was, for my world had crashed around me, and the sound of it was far louder than his voice. I knew I was as white as a sheet, my lips were quivering, and I felt paralyzed.

The man tried again to speak, and his tone was soft and gentle, but then he stepped towards me with a hand outstretched. Senses left me quite altogether. I finally found my legs and turned away and fled from him. I wasn't even thinking of anything but the need to flee. I ran through the orchard, through the gap, and back out to the lane that led up to home. I didn't even stop until I got to my room and shut the door in a hurry.

There I panted and gasped for breath. What had happened? Who was he? He was a man… and all men were bad, Mother said. I had been right to run away from him as soon as I could. But… something puzzled me. It was the look in his eyes before I had reacted fearfully. I didn't know what that look was, and part of me wanted to know.

I stupidly realized that I'd left my bow there. Now why had I done that? I berated myself, feeling like I had left half of me there in the orchard. I was quite helpless to think of what to do, for I was not about to go back there myself. But I needed my bow! My precious bow! Then I heard the heavy step of a familiar person. Neil! He'd get it for me. Snatching up my slate, I wrote my request, and showed it to him. He was very agreeable, and went out to the darkening orchard for me. How happy I was when I saw the bow in his hands again. I thanked him with a smile, and his eyes burned something bright at that. Giving a little wave goodnight, I went back to my room to think things over. What had happened, how I had reacted, and everything that Mother said about strange men… all of this played on my mind as I lay on my bed, waiting for sleep to come.


	2. Chapter 2

I stayed far away from the orchard the next day, feeling as if it were a stranger to me. Something had been marred about the thought of it now. I did not wish to see the man again in my hallowed place! The very thought sent a tremor through me. Mother had said men were bad. And I had no reason to disbelieve her. Everything she said must be true, for she was my mother, was she not?

I spent the day feeling like the pendulum in the grandfather clock. I wished to be a good girl, and obey what Mother said. But at the same time, somehow, I did not think the man would do me harm. For what I had seen of him, his looks had struck me as handsome, or at the very least nice looking. I am afraid to say I did not get a very good look at him, for I had been too terrified. And I felt a bit foolish for being that afraid of a stranger.

But then there was Mother. I could not deny what she said. And again, I would like to at least have another look at him and see if he was as bad as she said. I didn't know what to do, and Aunt Janet noticed. I was quieter and more careless with my chores, and she said to stop my thoughts from "wool gathering". That got her a smile from me, for I thought the expression funny, but I did not want to tell her what had happened. I would be forbidden from ever going to the old orchard again, and that, to me, was unthinkable. It was a close friend to me, and to have myself barred from it forever… no, I could not think of how sad I would feel. It would hurt so. No, I would not tell Uncle Thomas or Aunt Janet what had happened. After some thought, I decided not to tell Neil either. I used to tell him all my secrets, but as we grew, we had grown apart. He was twenty-two, and a man himself. But no, somehow, I felt it would not do to tell him either.

I thought briefly of my father, Ronald Fraser. Mother hated him. She told me so. But she must have loved him once, and I must have been born out of that love. But when his real wife came around, well, as she told me, her love turned to hate. Mother was like that. She either loved something or hated it. There did not seem to be anything in between. It was partly why I was a little afraid of her. Her moods were something tremendous, and I remember being afraid sometimes of making her angry. There was this one day, I recall, when I was very small. I had just gotten a new dress that Janet made for me, and how proud I was of it. I had dressed in it, and managed to braid my hair by myself… I was that small… and then went to present myself to my mother. She had taken a look at me, and the look on her face! I did not know what I had done to make her angry, but she went throughout the house and smashed every single mirror to be had. The noise had been terrific. Uncle told her something about bad luck but Mother wouldn't listen. I think that was the day she first told me I was ugly too.

There was something that bothered me about this situation. Mother said men were wicked. This is what I kept coming back to. But all men could not be so, I reasoned. Uncle was so kind and good, and he was a man. Neil was now a man too, and he'd always been faithful to me. There. That was two men that were neither wicked nor dangerous. So all men could not be so. But this man? He could be. I did not know how long he had been watching me before I saw him. Then, if he had been watching so long, he could have done something bad had he desired.

So then, now what? What should I do? Stay away? Go back? I wavered back and forth that day and most of the next, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I could take it no more. I would go back. Uncle was always talking about fairness. I would be fair to this stranger. If he did not like me, well then, then he did not. And that was all there was to it. And I could always ask him to leave.

Therefore, it was with a determined heart that I set forward to my favourite place: the old orchard. I wandered here and there, looking around in case he was hiding. But I was alone in the orchard, save for the birds and small creatures that I could often hear, but not see. I went to visit my flower friends. The blood red roses, the pink posies, the little blue forget-me-nots, all were my friends. But I also loved the June lilies. I was bending over these, my fingers trailing over the white petals, when he came.

He had paused on the edge of the open area, seemingly not wishing to frighten me again. I lifted my head, feeling fear wash over me again, but I was determined not to run away this time. I felt my face pale a little and could not help the little shudder in my breath, but I stood firm, watching him intently.

Now the man came closer. My heart thumped so in my chest at his nearness, but I was also able to see chestnut hair that had golden streaks when the sun hit it. His eyes were a grayish blue, and his face was pleasing to look upon. I shuddered again, wondering what he must think of me and my ugliness! However, he spoke very gently, "Do not be afraid of me. I am a friend, and I do not wish to disturb or annoy you in any way."

Annoy me? Heavens, no. It was more the other way around. However, he did not seem repulsed or stare at me, but stood with ease for my response. He did seem friendly, and not wicked or dangerous, like Mother had warned me. I decided to give him a chance, and wrote on my slate, "I am not afraid of you now. Mother told me that all men were wicked and dangerous, but I do not think you can be. I have thought a great deal about you, and I am sorry that I ran away the other night."

I could not read the expression that flashed into his eyes. Had I offended him? Should I have just gone away again? But he spoke again, and I could hear the kindness in his voice as he said, "I would not do you any harm for the world. All men are not wicked, though it is too true that some are so. My name is Eric Marshall, and I am teaching in the Lindsay school. You, I think, are Kilmeny Gordon. I thought your music so very lovely other evening that I have been wishing ever since that I might hear it again. Won't you play for me?"

In that instant, I relaxed entirely. This man… Eric… was no enemy! He was…  _nice_! And he loved my music. And knew my name. I could see the truth in his eyes of his words. I now smiled at him in a frank and friendly manner, pleased with him. I apologized to him that I could not play, for I had not brought my violin. I did not say that I had entirely forgotten it in my distressed state of mind. It was an unusual thing for me to do, but there it was. However, I told him, "I will bring it tomorrow evening and play for you if you would like to hear me. I should like to please you."

And what I said was true. I did want to please him, somehow. And I felt I could do that very easily. And it might be nice to know someone new that did not mind me in the least. I was willing to give him a fair chance, just like I had set out to do.

Eric smiled back at me warmly, and accepted my invitation. He now looked at me with excitement dancing in his eyes and asked, "And now won't you give me some flowers?"

This I was most happy to do, and nodded at him with a smile. Then I bent over the June lilies again and searched for the most perfect blossoms. They must be the very best for him, since he asked. My fingers brushed the white flowers and I picked only those that were white enough, had all their petals, and were the most pleasing and perfect shapes. At last, I had a good bunch, and carried them softly to him. I loved their scent and was so happy to see the warm light in his eyes when he received his gift.

Then Eric told me, "Thank you. These flowers are the sweetest that the spring brings us. Did you know that their real name is the white narcissus?"

This was news to me. I never knew that. I had read of several different flowers in mother's books, and had often wondered what the white narcissus had looked like, as it always sounded beautiful. And to think that I knew them after all! My own dear friends, merely under a different name. This pleased me very much, and I told him so.

Eric had a very nice smile as he told me, "You couldn't help but make friends with the lilies. Like always takes to like." I wondered what he meant, even as he motioned to me and patted the old worn bench to sit beside him. What could he possibly mean? The lilies were my friends, yes, but how was I like them? I was nothing like them. They were fair and lovely. Perhaps he meant my spirit was like them, and in this I would agree. I wanted to dance like them, and did at times, in my own way.

I trusted Eric immediately as I sat down next to him and watched him. After a moment, I remembered my manners and felt the need to apologize for running away the other day. It had been a foolish cowardly thing to do, and I was feeling a bit silly and ashamed about it. But it seemed that he didn't mind at all. How nice he was! Then I frowned slightly, and wished to make things very clear, for that is how I liked things. I wrote, "I cannot speak, you know. Are you sorry?"

Immediately, his response was polite, "I am very sorry for your sake."

Shaking my head, for that isn't what I meant. The written word doesn't always translate to what I wish! I erased what I had written and tried again, "Yes, but what I mean is, would you like me better if I could speak like other people?" Now I watched his eyes carefully for any trace of a lie when he answered. And I would know.

I saw no deception in his face as he frankly replied, "No, it does not make any difference in that way. By the way, do you mind my calling you Kilmeny?"

Mind? Why would I mind? Kilmeny is my name! What else would he call me? How very odd. I did not understand him, until he explained politely, "But I am such a stranger to you that perhaps you would wish me to call you Miss Gordon."

Miss Gordon! No, I didn't not like that one bit. The name was strange and made me feel very...no. Absolutely not. I wrote very quickly, impatient with my letters, wanting to resolve this situation quickly. "Nobody ever calls me that. It would make me feel like I were not myself but someone else. And you do not seem like a stranger to me." After a moment of thought, I added, in case it was some breach of etiquette that I was making, "Is there any reason why you should not call me Kilmeny?" I didn't want to make a mistake, after all. I did not know the rules of the world. Perhaps it was wrong for him to call me Kilmeny.

To my relief, Eric replied, "No reason whatever, if you allow me the privilege. You have a very lovely name, the very name you ought to have." I smiled broadly at him then, for I did like my name. I thought it lovely too, and I told him that I was named for my grandmother, whose name was Kilmeny too. I liked this, to have a link from the past, but it was my own name. I could imagine no other. I couldn't understand why Aunt Janet didn't like the name. Perhaps it was too strange for her, for she did like my grandmother. I told him how glad I was that he liked my name… and me. I did not say how glad I was that my ugliness didn't matter to him. He had never mentioned it, so I would not. Why ruin a good thing? I had also been afraid that he would not want to bother with me since I wouldn't speak, but it seemed that this, too, did not matter to him. And I told Eric that too.

But his face was alight with understanding as he said, "But you speak with your music, Kilmeny."

Ah, now! He really did understand me after all! Joy sprang in my heart at this, for it was true. I poured out my thoughts and feelings into my music and made it speak for me. And he understood without being told. Eric did ask if I "composed" my own music. I had never heard the word so I frowned at him and shrugged. He saw at once I did not know what he meant and asked instead if someone had taught me my music that I had played the other night.

I explained to him that no, it just comes as I think of it, and how Neil had showed me how to play. Oh, I like Eric so much. It was true that he was no stranger to me. He was so interesting to listen to, and I asked him about himself. I sat there fascinated by stories of what he did. It turns out that he came from a place called Toronto, which was in another province altogether. I knew the world was big and wide, but it was bigger than I thought. He told me of his father, and that his mother died. He told me of going to Queenslea College and some of the things he did there. It was so interesting, and very much story like. I did not entertain any thought or wish to see these things he spoke of, for I had none. I would never do such a thing. But I did like hearing him tell of his life, and his voice was rich and warm, and made the telling even nicer.

We had such a nice conversation, learning about each other, and I was glad to know that someone had already told Eric about my mother and my father. I knew the story well, of course, having heard it all from Mother before she died, and Aunt Janet of course had spoken to me about it after Mother died, to make sure I understood it all. I know Aunt felt guilty for her part in it, but I never held it against her. I do think that Mother understood that she made a mistake in being so hasty to judge my father, but people do make mistakes. I also told Eric that I missed Mother so much, that I couldn't read her books for some time, but when I did, I found them beautiful. They were all poetry, and I could see the similarities between that and my music.

"I will bring you some books to read, if you will like them," he offered generously. I snapped my eyes to him, and couldn't help the bright smile as excitement leaped into my chest. New books! I would love to read new books. Mine I knew practically by heart. It would be wonderful to read something new.

I gladly wrote, "I like to read and hear of the big world so far away and the people who live there and the things that are done. It must be a very wonderful place."

Eric turned to me with a smile of amusement and a question, "Wouldn't you like to go out in it and see its wonders and meet those people yourself?"

No! He did not understand! I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do that. I can't! Not like this! I should hate it so if people looked at me… I would be a monster among them! No, no, no. I must make him understand that I would never do that! I grabbed my pencil and marked with broad strokes, not caring if I broke my pencil or not, "No, no, no! I do not want to go anywhere from home. I do not want ever to see strangers or have them see me. I could not bear it."

I could see at once that he was disappointed, and still didn't understand. But he gracefully accepted what I said, and for that, I was thankful. We talked a little while longer, then he stood up and pointed at the shadows that were lengthening. It was time for him to go back to where ever he came from.

Pleasantly and reluctantly, Eric reminded me, "You won't forget to come tomorrow evening and play for me?"

I smiled and shook my head. As if I would forget to entertain my friend! That would not do. My evenings were always free for me to do as I pleased. I would be here. I wanted to see him again. And to think, I had been afraid of him! I went back home, thinking over it all. How silly I had been to act so when I first saw him. He was a friend, a very good friend. And I was looking forward to seeing Eric again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're liking this story! It's a challenge, but a fun one, and I'm really enjoying writing it.

I skipped all the way down the orchard and saw that I had gotten there before Eric. That was alright, for home was nearer than wherever he came from likely. I had my precious violin ready, and I knew I would play something happy and welcoming to him as soon as I saw him. He had wanted to hear me after all. And the last time I was playing, well. I dare say I must have been quite cowardly. I was now ashamed to think of the way I had just run off instead of facing him, just like Daniel and the lions. He hadn't been eaten, had he? I could be strong like that. I just hadn't… much practice. That was all.

I settled on the bench, waiting for my friend. I tasted that word on my tongue, even if nothing came out as a sound. Friend. That was a nice word. A good word. I had lots of friends, the trees, the wind, my violin, lots of things. But a human friend… yes, that excited me in a way that I did not really understand, but it didn't matter at all.

At last, Eric came into the orchard! Finally. As soon as I saw him, I grabbed my violin and laid my bow on its strings and played that happy dancing melody that my heart felt.

When I had done and he had sat next to me, I laid my violin carefully down. Picking up my slate, I asked him, "What did that say to you?" I wanted to see if he felt the same things I did, out of pure curiosity and humour. I think he might… he seemed like the sort that might.

Eric laughed softly, but readily answered, "It said something like this," he paused a moment to gather his thoughts, "Welcome, my friend. It is a very beautiful evening. The sky is so blue and the apple blossoms so sweet. The wind and I have been here alone together and the wind is a good companion, but still I am glad to see you. It is an evening on which it is good to be alive and to wander in an orchard that is fine and white. Welcome, my friend."

That pleased and delighted me. He really did understand! How glad I was! I wrote quickly,

"That was just what I meant. Of course I did not think it in just those words, but that was the feeling of it. I felt that I was so glad I was alive, and that the apple blossoms and the white lilacs and the trees and I were all pleased together to see you come. You are quicker than Neil. He is almost always puzzled to understand my music, and I am puzzled to understand his. Sometimes it frightens me. It seems as if there were something in it trying to take hold of me—something I do not like and want to run away from."

I admitted that bit about Neil with a puzzled frown. He had been lighter hearted when he was little, but as he had grown, we had lost each other's language it seemed. His music did terrify me. That was the truth. But I felt if Eric made music, it would be similar to mine. But alas! He had already told me he did not know how. But he didn't mind. It was enough to be able to listen and enjoy music.

Looking up after I had finished writing, I saw a flash in his eyes at the references to Neil. He didn't like that one bit. I could not read what exactly was in his eyes, but I sensed that he would prefer not to talk about him. That was alright by me. I would respect his wishes, even if he did not voice them. I would have to try to remember that.

Eric shook his head as if to clear it from dark thoughts and had a bright smile for me. He slid off the bench onto the soft grass and lay on his back, arms behind his head quite comfortably. "Now play here for me," he requested with a pleading look that just melted my heart. "I want to lie here and listen to you."

I would never say no to playing my violin, especially after such a nice request. Nodding gaily, I wiped off my slate and put it down, taking up my stringed friend instead. It was second, no, first nature to just play. And I did. I played from my heart, whatever white lily thoughts that floated into my head. I made the music merry and sad by turns, music that perhaps the stars sang, what the wind said in summer and in winter, the roaring of the waves upon the red sands of the shore, the soft melodies of the flowers in spring, the weeping of a hope that had long died, and more that I couldn't put into words as I slipped into a still sweeter strain. Perhaps there was something about myself and my thoughts, but I didn't pay much attention to specific things. All I did was play. Just play.

Finally, I grew tired, and laid my violin beside me and shook out my hair to one side, for it had flowed in the wind with my music making. I had pleased him, I knew, from the look on his face. He was mesmerized and had to blink several times to wake from wherever I had taken him with my music. Smiling, I took up the slate once more and showed Eric hopefully, "Do you remember a promise you made me last night? Have you kept it?"

To my delight, Eric presented to me two books! At last, I had something I had not read before. He explained with some hesitancy that one book was a novel. I learned that a novel was a story about people. I wasn't sure about that, but I was interested anyway. It might be a good way to find out about the world. The other book was, glory be! Poetry!

I asked him to read some of the poetry. Eric had a nice deep voice that made the poetry all the better somehow. My favourite one that he read was by a man named Rudyard Kipling and the poem was called "The Road Not Taken." I resolved to read it over again later tonight.

After the reading, Eric continued to tell me stories about his life and his college where he learned. At the moment he was telling me of some of the pranks he and his sophomore friends had pulled on the freshmen class. They had gone to a nearby farm and "borrowed", those were his words, "borrowed" three pigs. They managed to paint on these pigs the numbers 1, 2, and 4. Then they released those bewildered pigs in the freshmen hall. How he laughed when he told of how they were so startled at these pigs running around, and then they resolved to catch them. Then the freshmen searched high and low for pig number 3, which of course didn't exist.

I had never heard anything so funny. The laughter bubbled up inside me, and I clapped my hands merrily. Then, as it sometimes happens, the laughter spilled out of me in a silvery peal. That had been absolutely hilarious!

Eric had a thoughtful look as I collected my breath again. Then he asked permission to ask a question about my inability to speak, not wanting to hurt me. I reassured him on that point, for I was well used to my disability, and never thought ill of it at all. It was just part of who I am. He could ask whatever he liked about it. I was not terribly surprised when he asked why I was unable to speak, when everything else worked perfectly. I had heard that often mutes could not hear, or see, or some other thing, but I was perfectly healthy in every other way but the one.

I shook my head and tried to tell him what Mother had told me, "No, I do not know at all why I cannot speak. I asked mother once and she told me it was a judgment on her for a great sin she had committed, and she looked so strangely that I was frightened, and I never spoke of it to her or anyone else again."

The next question out of Eric's mouth was, "Were you ever taken to a doctor to have your tongue and organs of speech examined?"

"No. I remember when I was a very little girl that Uncle Thomas wanted to take me to a doctor in Charlottetown and see if anything could be done for me, but mother would not let him. She said it would be no use. And I do not think Uncle Thomas thought it would be, either."

"You can laugh very naturally. Can you make any other sound?"

I agreed, pleased about that. I had been told my laughter was pretty. "Yes, sometimes. When I am pleased or frightened I have made little cries. But it is only when I am not thinking of it at all that I can do that. If I try to make a sound I cannot do it at all."

I remembered but did not tell him how hard I had tried to speak. I'd think about shouting, yelling, whispering, or just talking normally as much as I could, but no matter what, nothing came past my lips from my mind. I could hear myself talk. No one else could. Sometimes that was frustrating, but there wasn't anything I could do about that.

Now Eric looked far too sober for my liking. I didn't want him to be sorry for me, for I was not sorry for myself. Smiling merrily, I told him to cheer up and not worry about it, picking up my violin as soon as I could. I played a swirling teasing melody in order to cheer him up. He smiled even though the puzzled look was still in his eyes, but he laughed at my music and bid me goodnight. I played until after he had left my sight, wanting my music to follow him home.


	4. Chapter 4

The days flowed on by. I felt as if I were living two lives at times. One was my everyday life that I had always done. The other was in the old orchard with Eric. He was so interesting and entertaining to be with, and I greatly enjoyed my time there. I had experienced anything like the friendship he gave me. And it was sweet indeed.

Not that life was uninteresting at the farm. For things did happen there too. My favourite cow had given birth to a beautiful little red and white heifer. And Uncle Thomas gave the little one to me! I cared for it and loved feeding her. I named her Belle, for she was so pretty with long eyelashes and dainty little hooves. I liked to let her suckle on my thumb, and that did tickle!

Belle wasn't the only new life on the farm. Uncle Thomas' pig also had a litter of piglets, and what noisy little things they are! There were always the chickens and their chicks as well, and I liked watching the songbirds busy carrying food to their nests.

I also helped Aunt Janet start a new quilt. She let me pick out the pattern I wanted, and we worked together very amicably. But my thoughts were never on my work anymore. They were back in the orchard with Eric. I had also ravenously read the poetry book, several times in fact. The novel was… interesting. It talked a little bit about love, but it wasn't very important in the book. I was somehow glad about that, but couldn't begin to explain it if I had been asked.

Looking at the grandfather clock, I smiled, for it was time to meet Eric. I dashed to the old bench where we had been meeting every evening for the last three weeks, except for rainy days. And I was ever thankful that we did not have many of those lately. As sometimes happened, Eric was there before I was, and he invited me for a nice long ramble. I was glad to do this, for I loved the flowers and trees around. It satisfied something in my very soul, and he would talk about them too. Eric was so interesting to listen to, and I learned far more than I would have had I simply read about it.

I watched him carefully today but with a smile on my face. Evenings with him were never boring. I suppose I was finding out that I had been a bit lonely before, but had not realized it. But with Eric, I was never bored. Sometimes he'd bring a book and read it aloud to me. This I loved, for my Aunt and Uncle usually had little time to do so, and Neil disliked books. And Eric had a nice deep voice that was a pleasure to listen to. Sometimes we would just walk around and I would show him my favourite corners. He'd then tell me about his childhood. He also talked of his parents, his mother who had died, and his father, in whose footsteps he hoped to follow. His voice always held love and respect when he talked of his parents, and I liked that about him as well.

If we did not walk about, or read, or talk, then I would just play my violin for him. I could always play for a long time, and my music of late always had an extra note of joy and happiness in it. Eric always seemed enraptured and would lie down on the grass, sometimes with his eyes closed, and sometimes with his head turned to watch me.

I had grown used to this habit of him watching me. It didn't seem bad, like he was looking at my ugliness. I am sure he saw beyond that. In fact, he never seemed bothered one bit by my appearance, and I would soon forget my homliness. I thought Eric handsome. His brown hair was just the right shade, with a few sun bleached strands in it. His blue eyes danced with merriment at times, grew serious at others, but were always bright with interest. He was taller than Neil, and possibly Uncle Thomas as well. And I loved his warm rich laugh and ready grin.

One time, I asked him out of curiosity, "Are there many people like you in the world?"

He laughed in amusement, and replied, "Thousands of them!"

I tried to imagine thousands of Erics? I pondered that with a slight frown, then shook my head decisively. The thing was impossible. It could not be. I primly wrote, "I do not think so. I do not know much of the world, but I do not think there are many people like you in it."

Today was a lovely evening. The shadows were purple, and where the sun hit the orchard, it looked golden. The flowers seemed on fire, and I was glad to see them so brilliant If only I… but no. I would not think of that. It satisfied something inside me to see the beauty of the land. And Eric had in his hand a new book!

I sat with eagerness and waited for him to begin his story. It wasn't a terribly long one but as I listened, something inside me hurt. It was a beautiful story, about two lovers who loved each other passionately. I wasn't sure how to react to such a thing, for I had never heard anything like that before. So I sat quietly, but looked down at the grass, somehow not wishing to look at Eric as he read. I did not understand this love at all. Mother had told me it was a bad thing, but then it was portrayed in a way that I had never imagined. Love… this book told me that love was something to be attained, cherished…. and I felt like something was missing out of my life.

Now Eric asked me the question I was afraid he would. I hesitated to answer him, and for once wrote slowly and thoughtfully. But I was honest with him, for why would I be anything else? I replied, "Yes, I like it. But it hurt me, too. I did not know that a person could like anything that hurt her. I do not know why it hurt me. I felt as if I had lost something that I never had. That was a very silly feeling, was it not? But I did not understand the book very well, you see. It is about love and I do not know anything about love. Mother told me once that love is a curse, and that I must pray that it would never enter into my life. She said it very earnestly, and so I believed her. But your book teaches that it is a blessing. It says that it is the most splendid and wonderful thing in life. Which am I to believe?"

Eric was very serious as he answered, watching my face to make sure he hadn't alarmed me, "Love—real love—is never a curse, Kilmeny." He paused and tried to explain better, "There is a false love which  _is_  a curse. Perhaps your mother believed it was that which had entered her life and ruined it; and so she made the mistake. There is nothing in the world—or in heaven either, as I believe—so truly beautiful and wonderful and blessed as love."

I thought about this a moment. Perhaps he was right. After all, I believed Mother had truly loved Father at one point. She had told me something of that when she died. And Eric seemed so in ernest about what he was saying. And when he had spoken of his parents, they had seemed to love each other dearly before his mother died. Not for the first time lately, I began to question my own mother. Perhaps she was wrong about this. Perhaps she had, as Eric said, believed she had a false love. Curious now, I turned to Eric and asked him, "Have you ever loved?"

He shook his head, and looked me in the eye as he said, "No, but every one has an ideal of love whom he hopes to meet some day...'the ideal woman of a young man's dream.' I suppose I have mine, in some sealed, secret chamber of my heart."

Somehow bitterness entered into me, but I had to know. Just for my own curiosity's sake, mind you. "I suppose your ideal woman would be beautiful, like the woman in your book?"

He laughed softly and replied, "Oh, yes, I am sure I could never care for an ugly woman."

Now why was I so disappointed by this answer? I felt like a lovely dream of mine had been shattered at this statement. I would never feel love then at all. I wished he had never read that story to me. It had made me wish for something that would never be attained. I knew he was still talking but I did not listen much. I looked away from him as he talked and only watched the purple hills in the late evening sunshine. Then his voice pulled me back out of the dark place I had been. I suddenly realized that this book that he had read to me belonged to his mother. It had been one of her favourite books. I could understand that… she had loved. And if she had looked anything like Eric, she must have been very pretty.

He wanted to give me the book, and write my name in it as "Kilmeny of the Orchard". I flushed a bit at this, secretly pleased at the name. It was a pretty name like that. But I did not want that book. Eric proffered it to me, and seemed surprised when I shook my head. I could feel the heat rising on my face, but couldn't imagine why. "Won't you take the book, Kilmeny? Why not?"

I gave a sigh, but supposed he did deserve some sort of explanation. I thought carefully as I wrote slowly. I had never spoken of this thing to anyone before. But I felt it was time I should mention it to him… I owed him that much. And he was such a dear friend that was so accepting of me. At last I finished and showed him my slate, averting my eyes again, "Do not be offended with me. I shall not need anything to make me remember you because I can never forget you. But I would rather not take the book. I do not want to read it again. It is about love, and there is no use in my learning about love, even if it is all you say. Nobody will ever love me. I am too ugly."

He gave a sound of genuine surprise, but I refused to look at him. I knew what must be showing on my face: all my hurt and bitterness and pain over my own ugliness. I could live without a voice… that never hurt me as much as the other did.

Silence a moment, then his voice came to me with that same note of surprise, "Kilmeny, you don't really think yourself ugly, do you?"

What was it that he did not understand? Snatching my slate again, I tried to make him understand. I told him that I had known this for a very long time, and that it was Mother who told me. I still remember that day, when I had bounced down in that pretty new dress. And Mother had told me then that I was very ugly and that no one would like to look at me. I still remember feeling absolutely crushed about it. I knew it was probably silly, and that I should have been more worried about my voice than that. But I could not help the way I feel about it! I told Eric that this was the reason why I did not want to go out into the world and meet people. It had been bad enough with the egg peddler and his staring at me. I knew it was because he was so horrified at my ugliness, so to spare him, I had hidden after that when he came around.

Eric had a smile on his face to my puzzlement, and had a strange note in his voice as he asked me, "But, Kilmeny, do you think yourself ugly when you look in a mirror?"

Mirrors, I had heard of them, but had never seen one. But I told him, "I have never looked in a mirror. I never knew there was such a thing until after mother died, and I read about it in a book. Then I asked Aunt Janet and she said mother had broken all the looking glasses in the house when I was a baby. But I have seen my face reflected in the spoons, and in a little silver sugar bowl Aunt Janet has. And it  _is_  ugly, very ugly."

I was still ashamed as Eric dropped his head into the grass again where he'd been lying. The poor boy! I had hurt him too, hadn't I? I was wishing now that I had never brought this up. And all this over that foolish book! Why had he brought it in the first place, knowing that it could hurt me? But I had never known Eric to be malicious, so I think he hadn't realized that it could hurt me. It was his mother's book, after all. A treasure to him, a curse to me.

Finally Eric looked up at me and in a soft gentle voice, he told me, "I don't think you very ugly, Kilmeny."

Now that was a surprise to me. I protested immediately, "Oh, but you must! Even Neil does. I asked him one time if he thought me very ugly and he wouldn't look or answer me, so I knew it must be true." I gave him a careful look, then shook my head. I did not want to speak or think of this anymore. It was spoiling the evening. So I offered instead to play him some good bye music, and hoped he hadn't been vexed that I would not take his book.

But he only answered with that same friendly smile, "I am not vexed, and I think you will take it someday yet. After I have shown you something I want you to see. Never mind about your looks, Kilmeny. Beauty isn't everything."

Perhaps not, but I wanted to be sure our friendship wasn't ruined entirely. So I was quick to write, "Oh, it is a great deal. But you do like me, even though I am so ugly, don't you? You like me because of my beautiful music, don't you?"

Eric had a soft expression in his eyes, and there was a genuine note in his voice along with something I wasn't sure about, but it made me pleased anyway. Chuckling a little, he declared, "I like you very much, Kilmeny."

I was very happy he felt that way, and something inside me was satisfied about it. I couldn't begin to explain, but I knew that we would always be friends. So on that happy note, I picked up my violin and played for him. I played until he had gone into the darkening evening. I played on until I was certain he could not hear me anymore. Then I stood up myself and turned to home once more, my heart feeling lighter than before.


	5. Chapter 5

I went the orchard the next evening as was now my habit, wanting to see Eric again. I wanted to ask him more questions about the world in which he came from, and especially about his parents. I was now genuinely interested in them, since we had been talking of love yesterday. Even though I was still a bit hurt over his words the previous evening, I felt much better over it. Maybe it was because he was such a good friend to me. I suspected, but would not face it directly that it was how he had said he liked me very much.

Why did I keep coming back to that? Of course he liked me. I liked him very much too. But there was something different about the way he had said it. What was the difference? I could not think what it was. Perhaps it was merely my imagination. I was just being a foolish little girl who knew nothing at all. That was all it was.

I walked around a good while waiting for Eric. He didn't come at his usual time. Assuming he was merely late because of some child he had to keep at school, I plucked some flowers as I meandered around. He still did not come. I felt a flash of worry that maybe yesterday had been worse than I thought. But no… I had no reason to think he would suddenly abandon me with no explanation. Likely something had come up. Still, I lingered in the orchard, hoping that he would come after all. The orchard had always been my friend, but tonight I felt something lacking in it without Eric. The colours seemed washed out, the smells flat and uninteresting. He brought life to this orchard that I never knew was there.

Finally I picked up my violin to play, as had always been my habit here. I was very disappointed that my friend did not come, and it showed. All that I could coax out of my violin was sad music and I was unable to do anything about it. My poor violin just cried, that's all it did. Eventually I gave up in disgust and went home again.

I moped around a bit the next day, and had half a thought not to go tonight. But I quickly changed my mind. Surely he would come tonight! He must… I missed him. He brought colour to my life. So I skipped to the orchard to wait in hope.

Seeing the new little white roses gave me an idea. I plucked a few and made it into a crown, watching my fingers with the thorns. It became a dainty looking crown, which I liked the look of immediately. Perhaps it was childish, but I put the crown on my own head, liking the feel of it. Whatever I might think of my face, I did like my shiny black hair, and knew that the white flowers might set it off in a nice way.

At last I saw chestnut hair step through the gap in the trees. Excitement washed over me, and I jumped up like a little girl and ran over to Eric. He smiled warmly at me and took my outstretched hands in his own and looked into my eyes. For the first time since I had met Eric, I could not meet his eyes, and I quickly looked down at his shoes. I flushed, not knowing why, but suddenly felt shy at his presence.

I heard his voice in a low and knowing tone, "Are you glad to see me, Kilmeny?"

Nodding at him, embarrassed at how much I was glad, I wrote awkwardly, "Yes. Why do you ask? You know I am always glad to see you." I told him how I had waited for him last night, and how sorry I had been when he didn't come.

Eric smiled again, but led me up the path to the bench as he replied, "I am sorry you were disappointed, Kilmeny. I couldn't come last night. Some day I shall tell you why. I stayed home to learn a new lesson. I am sorry you missed me—no, I am glad. Can you understand how a person may be glad and sorry for the same thing?"

Again I nodded, brightening up. Yes, I did understand that. It once would have been a strange idea, quite beyond my understanding. But I did know exactly what he meant. I asked, "Did you learn your new lesson?"

"Yes, very thoroughly. It was a delightful lesson when I once understood it. I must try to teach it to you someday. Come over to the old bench, Kilmeny. There is something I want to say to you. But first, will you give me a rose?"

I was more than happy to fulfill his request. I ran to the white rosebush and searched it carefully. It must be just right for him. This one was too open, this one imperfectly formed, that one was too closed, and this one was not white enough. At last, I found what I sought: a perfect rosebud that was half open, and a lovely little sunrise flush around its yellow gold heart. I brought it to him in triumph and sat next to him comfortably.

He looked very pleased and looked up at me and fondly said, "Thank you. It is as beautiful as… as a woman I know."

I glanced at him wistfully, wondering who this woman was. Likely it was the woman he'd mentioned at college. She had sounded pretty, and he'd said something about her crimson, velvety bloom on her face, and she was very smart too. She had taken top marks apparently in something called Philosophy. That must be whom he was thinking of.

Eric didn't say anything for a long moment, seeming to ponder something on his mind. I looked up to watch a bright cardinal chirping cheerily and smiled at him. At last, Eric spoke in a very serious tone, one that I had not heard him use before, "Kilmeny, I am going to ask you to do something for me. I want you to take me home with you and introduce me to your uncle and aunt."

I simply stared at him in shock and total disbelief. If he had asked me to climb the tallest tree in the orchard and throw myself off, it would have been more believable. But this! This I could not do! Didn't he know how much things would be ruined between us! No, no, no! I gestured wildly, instinctively trying to speak in passionate efforts. At last, I gave up and seized my state and scribbled on it feverishly, "I cannot do that. Do not ask me to. You do not understand. They would be very angry. They do not want to see any one coming to the house. And they would never let me come here again. Oh, you do not mean it?"

I gazed at him, bewilderment and fear running through me. He couldn't ask for this! This lovely dream of ours would be destroyed. But Eric reached for my hands and held them tenderly, but his voice was firm, "Yes, Kilmeny, I do mean it. It is not quite right for us to be meeting each other here as we have been doing, without the knowledge and consent of your friends. You cannot now understand this, but...believe me… it is so."

This still puzzled me, and looked into his eyes with my best pleading look. But I saw the look of determination in Eric's eyes. He would not be moved on this. This finally convinced me at last. There was nothing for it. I felt myself pale and drain of any hope. This would be the end of everything. But if he said it was a wrong thing to do, then that was all there was to it. Why did I feel so miserable about it then? Finally, I shook off his hands and answered him slowly, "If you say it is wrong I must believe it. I did not know anything so pleasant could be wrong. But if it is wrong we must not meet here any more. Mother told me I must never do anything that was wrong. But I did not know this was wrong."

Eric was gentle and sympathetic, but again quite unmovable on this point. But he was certain that it wouldn't be as bad as I thought. He didn't understand at all, did he? But I told him that I would do it, since he insisted on it. I could not take him tonight since Aunt and Uncle were at the store in Radnor, but I would take him tomorrow night. "And after that, I shall not see you anymore."

I couldn't help the tears that brimmed over at that thought. I would lose my friend… my only friend! Everything seemed so wrong. My lips quivered as I tried not to cry. I heard Eric move closer to me as I looked down at my slate that now had teardrops on it. He wrapped his arm around me and gently pulled my head down to his shoulder. It was so comforting that I felt the floodgates open. I cried right there into his shoulder, feeling like I had lost everything good already. Aunt and Uncle would surely be furious at me! And how I hated disappointing them.

A gentle and tender deep voice rumbled into my ear, "Kilmeny, dear, don't cry. You shall see me again. I promise you that, whatever happens. I do not think your uncle and aunt will be as unreasonable as you fear, but even if they are they shall not prevent me from meeting you somehow."

At this encouraging note, I looked up at him and rubbed my eyes dry. I wanted to believe him. I really did. But he didn't know what they were like! I told them that they'd punish me by locking me into my room. They'd done it to me not so long ago even as a big girl. I'd told a falsehood, and they had been angry about it. What would they do about this?

But Eric only chucked in amusement, and promised me, "If they do I'll get you out somehow."

I gave him a watery smile as best I could. Eric tried his best to cheer me up, bless him. But I just couldn't be cheered up. Not when I knew that I would lose him tomorrow. It seemed the worst thing in the world to happen to me. Somehow it was even worse than finding out I was ugly. This just seemed more important than anything else in my life. I didn't really pay attention to the cheery talk Eric was saying, lost in my own thoughts. At last he gave up and asked me for some music. But I had to decline him, saying, "I cannot think any music to-night. I must go home, for my head aches and I feel very stupid."

Eric sighed in defeat, but nodded and squeezed my hand comfortingly. He told me again not to worry, and that it would come out alright. I still couldn't believe him, and let him walk me to the entrance of the wild cherry lane. I looked up at Eric, and tried not to cry again. I just wanted to say goodbye to him in this beautiful place that we had been so happy in for so long. And that happiness would never come again, I was sure of that.

What happened next was Eric's eyes flashing with an emotion that I did not know. But he suddenly leaned into me, swept his arm around me, and pressed gentle lips against mine in a kiss. His mouth was warm on mine, and I felt his love for one flashing moment. I jumped back with a cry that erupted from my throat, quite startled at this sudden movement of Eric's. I started at him in shock, then felt myself flush redder than I had ever been before. The next moment, I fled away from him, just as I had the first time I had seen him.

I ran all the way back to my room, but I still could feel his lips against mine. What had he done?  _What had I done?_  He had kissed me. He kissed me. And… and… I tried to ignore the feelings I had about, but had to face them head on.  _I had liked it_. I had liked him kissing me. And… I believe… no, I didn't believe. I knew.. I really had kissed back for a brief second instinctively.

Now I flushed again in embarrassment. I would feel that kiss on my lips again when I looked into his eyes tomorrow. For I  _would_  see him tomorrow, come what may. I lay down on my bed, and did not even bother getting under the covers. I just lay there, thinking over everything that had happened from the time I had first seen Eric to the kiss that had happened just now. I did not know what prompted him to do such a thing. I went over what Mother had said to me, but I was beginning to see some things that Mother had been wrong about. But she couldn't be all wrong now, could she?

But I knew one thing now I began to prepare for bed. I was no longer a child. With that kiss, childhood lay behind me. The gates of womanhood were wide open to me. And I had gone through them with hope. What lay on the next chapter?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am enjoying writing this take on my favourite book ever. I hope you are as well!

When I had finished preparing for bed, there was a knocking on my door. I opened it to see Aunt Janet standing there with a mixture of anger and sadness in her face. She curtly told me to come and see Uncle Thomas. Wonderingly, I walked down the stairs barefooted and stood before them, tightening my wrap around me. Something had happened, hadn't it?

Uncle Thomas looked at me with a look of fury, and stood up with a jump. "Just what is this that I have been hearing, Kilmeny? You have been meeting a young man  _on the sly_  in that orchard! And here your aunt and I have been thinking you are only playing your violin by yourself! You said nothing at all about this man! And  **he kissed you**! Kilmeny Gordon, I am ashamed of you!"

I immediately burst into tears, frightened at how angry my Uncle was. Aunt Janet was not much better, and had many biting things to say. I was very unhappy over the whole thing. I was very much regretting what I had done. Eric had been right after all. Us meeting like that  _had_  been wrong. Very wrong. And I was very much learning that now. I had done something terribly wrong.

Uncle Thomas had a terrible voice as he asked me if  _anything_  else had happened between me and that young man. I didn't know what he meant, but I shook my head wildly and fastened pleading eyes on his. No, nothing untowards had happened! Unless a kiss was untowards? Even if I had liked it? I did not want to displease Uncle and Aunt, and I did wonder how they had found out.

I had turned my head away, trying to keep the tears down, when I saw a flash of something black at the window. Neil! Oh, it was Neil! He must have seen us somehow, and carried the whole tale back to them. I wanted to be angry with him for ruining everything, but I couldn't. He must have thought he was doing the right thing, and I could not blame him.

"You listen to me, young lady!" Uncle Thomas snapped at me. With a tiny sigh, I turned my attention back to the angry man in front of me. I let him continue his tongue lashing, and Aunt Janet… she was crying! I had bitterly disappointed her. Oh, that set me off crying again. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint the two people I loved most in my life. And here I was having done just that! I was still frightened by his anger, but willing enough to stand there and take it. I had been a very bad girl.

The last thing Uncle said to me was, "I will  **never**  trust you out of my sight again, Kilmeny! You have been a wicked, wicked girl! Now get out of my sight." He slammed himself back down in his chair, glaring at me.

"You will stay in your room, Kilmeny, until we say you may come out." This was Aunt Janet, and I looked at her with a sorrowful but obedient look. I hated being locked in my room. I liked my room well enough, but just being locked into it and barred from the rest of the family was very dreadful to me.

I cried some more in my room. Now I would never see Eric Marshall again in my life. I had expected them to be angry when I brought him to meet them, but now it would never happen. How angry they had been! I knew now that Eric would never be able to come. They wouldn't let him into the house. I had lost my friend forever. I wished I had a better goodbye. I wish I had never met him.

No, that wasn't true. I  _was_ glad to have met Eric. He had brought some brightness into my life that I had never known was missing. I had been happy before. I hadn't been lonely. I had liked my life. But since he came walking into that orchard, I had felt myself blossom in a way that pleased me. I was able to laugh and joke, and banter in a way that I had never done, but seemed so natural. I had someone to talk to about everything, but in a different way than Aunt and Uncle and Neil.

Neil. That brought fresh tears to my eyes at that thought. Neil had done this to us… to me. He had been so different of late, and now this! This made me afraid of him somehow. I had had that feeling growing slowly, that he was turning into a stranger. I do not like thinking that of someone I had grown up with, but it was true. There was something dark and frightening about Neil that I did not know how to describe. Even his music was something that tugged at me and wanting to lead me away to something terrifying. That makes no sense, I know. But I couldn't understand him, much less his music. And he had given up trying to understand mine. But at the same time, I thought he was my friend. Shouldn't he have come to me and spoken to me about this first? That's what I would have done had I been in his shoes. If I had seen him doing something I felt wasn't right, I would have asked him about it frankly. Then I tell Aunt and Uncle if I did not know what to do about the situation.

But maybe he was right to go to them first. I didn't know what to do, how to feel, or anything. I was too upset even to say my prayers but flung myself upon my bed and cried into my pillow. I sobbed for a good long while until my tears ran out. Exhausted, I fell asleep on a still damp pillow.

When I had woken, I still felt miserable and like I hadn't slept a wink. As it was, I had kept waking up during the night, remember everything, cry, and fall back asleep again. So a very poor looking creature I must have looked like in the morning. I moped around until I heard a knock at my door. I hoped that the knock meant I was to be released, but it was only Aunt Janet bringing me breakfast and allowing me to use the water closet.

Breakfast! I had no stomach for breakfast. My insides felt gutted, and I feared that if I ate anything, I might see a reappearance of it. But I picked at it a little before pushing it aside. I sat at my window and stared outside. From here, I could see a corner of orchard, now forever forbidden to me. My dear old friend! Gone were the birds, the lilacs, the dear bench, the trees, Eric. I hadn't meant to tack on that last thought. But he was as much part of the orchard as he had said I was. "Kilmeny of the Orchard" he had called me once. I wanted to call him back "Eric of the Orchard." For he and that old magical place seemed one. And now both were gone.

I did not read nor write that day. Nor did I even attempt to play my violin, knowing nothing worthwhile would come out of my music. Instead, I merely lay on my bed or in my chair and thought. I wanted to live everything over again.

At last it was evening, at the time when I would normal betake myself to the orchard to meet Eric. I sighed sadly, for my room was still locked. I wondered how long I would be here for. So I settled down to watch the sun drop below the horizon and set the hills on fire. It comforted me somewhat, to see the beauty unfold before my eyes.

A knocking startled me out of my reverie, and I turned to see Aunt Janet step into my room. She gave me a long look, but had a smile on her face. I was puzzled, for her smile contrasted with a sadness that was on her features as well. But to my great surprise, she told me gently, "Kilmeny, that lad Eric Marshall is here. We have had a good long talk with him, and you are forgiven. You may go down and see him. He's been asking for you."

I studied my aunt in complete bewilderment. She seemed pleased about something, and all the anger had gone out of her. Still the memories of last night and what they had said was too fresh. I cocked my head at her with a questioning look.

She sighed and told me, taking my hand, "You're a good lassie, Kilmeny. We should have believed you. Mr. Marshall is a good man. Now, get yourself proper. You cannot greet a visitor looking like that." She gave another warm smile, but still that strange light in her eyes that I did not know. But I nodded eagerly and flew about my room, brushing my hair, braiding it, and putting on a decent dress. At last I was ready and descended the stairs.

And there was Eric, waiting in the sitting room, just like Aunt had said. I watched as he jumped up with gladness to meet me, but I only gave him a hand and did not look into his eyes. I had meant to, as I looked up into the face I had thought I'd never see again. But I just couldn't. The kiss was too fresh, as was everything that Aunt and Uncle had said about him.

Eric smiled victoriously and told me brightly, "You see I was right after all, Kilmeny," he said, smiling. "Your uncle and aunt haven't driven me away. On the contrary they have been very kind to me, and they say I may see you whenever and wherever I like."

I gave a small smile back and went to the table where my slate was and sat down. I was honest as I told him, "But they were very angry last night, and said dreadful things to me. I felt very frightened and unhappy. They seemed to think I had done something terribly wrong. Uncle Thomas said he would never trust me out of his sight again. I could hardly believe it when Aunt Janet came up and told me you were here and that I might come down. She looked at me very strangely as she spoke, but I could see that all the anger had gone out of her face. She seemed pleased and yet sad. But I am glad they have forgiven us."

I was very glad that Aunt and Uncle had forgiven me, and that Eric could come and see me wherever we liked. That was very good, so much better than I had ever imagined. It was a strange thought to have him come to this house and talk with me, but at the same time it felt  _right_. It would be so very good for us both.

I had been honest with what I told him but I did not tell him everything. I did not tell him just how glad I was to see him, nor did I say how devastated I had been when I thought I would never see him again. How strange that was. Yesterday… I would have told him all of that without a single thought. But yesterday… seemed like years ago. I felt as if I had grown overnight. I had never cried myself to sleep before, had never experienced anything like this before. This had made me grow up in a way that I still couldn't explain. I felt more reserve and dignity with him now, but as yet, I was so happy that he was here. And better yet, this was a gateway to a new experience. I was looking forward to what would happen next.

That evening was spent right in the sitting room with Eric. Uncle Thomas looked in on us a bit strangely, but I knew he was not angry anymore either. Instead, he had a look of wondering curiosity, and eventually did join us for a bit of a chat and some more questions for Eric.

I looked up at the mantlepiece at the picture of Mother. It was only a crayon picture, and Aunt Janet said not very well done. But I thought it did look like Mother. What would she think of all this? Of Eric being right here under her nose, so it seemed? I decided to ignore that shivery feeling I got from looking at that picture and turn my attention to the banter going on between my Uncle and Eric.

My silvery laugh echoed through the sitting room as a funny joke was told and I enjoyed myself very much. Yes, this would be better than before, having Eric here. And I was glad, so glad. Our orchard would always be sacred to us, but now he seemed as one of the family. And I welcomed him into it without hesitation.


	7. Chapter 7

Eric now came every day to the old house, and on weekends, he might stay most of the day. I greatly enjoyed this change of the routine. Sometimes I would take Eric around the farm. Sometimes we would just sit and talk. And often enough we went back to the old orchard, where he would read me stories or I would play my violin for him. However, I also enjoyed watching Aunt and Uncle with Eric. He added an extra tang to life, and I began to learn new things about my family that I had never known before.

Uncle Thomas is a good example. I knew he read the paper and sometimes the poetry books on the shelves as well as his own books in his room. But I was so used to the gruff succinct words from him that I was amazed by the change when he and Eric got into a friendly argument. If Eric got him wound up enough, Uncle would suddenly straighten his bent form, and a great fire would flash from his eyes. His voice would ring out in a triumphant way and what he would say! He was pure eloquence and fluent in words, and would sweep away any smart sounding argument that Eric had like matchsticks. It was so much fun to watch Uncle thus transformed, and Eric enjoyed himself hugely, even when he lost. The funny thing was Uncle would be terribly embarrassed about the whole thing that for an entire week afterwards, all one would be able to get out of him was "Yes" or "No, or at the very least, that the weather was changing. I found it so amusing, and Aunt Janet would as well.

We would share secret looks when we could see Uncle start up, and smile when the two would go at it like hammers and tongs. A lot of the time, they would lose me altogether, what with their bombardment of facts and statistics and opinions. But nevertheless, it was most entertaining. And also equally funny to see was the way Aunt Janet would smile at Uncle very slyly when Eric happened to win a point, which wasn't often.

Eric told me he very much liked my aunt and uncle. I was glad to hear that, and was very happy that they got along so well. After thinking so long that they would hate him for meeting me secretly, it was a relief to me that they liked him so well too. They were more than happy to have the nice young man around, and occasionally, especially on the weekends, Eric would help Uncle with some equipment or other. They often would not permit me to stay, citing some need for "man to man talk". I would leave them to their foolishness and help Aunt instead. However, I did catch looks from them both at me with a mixture of… what? I wasn't sure. It seemed to be both hope and wonder and… something else.

Sometimes I would wonder if they liked Eric better than Neil. But Neil was very much changed. He avoided me now, even when I tried to talk to him. He was rude to Aunt and Uncle, and would take off with his friends for the entire day at times. Uncle tried to talk to him, but he just brushed him off and wouldn't talk to him. At last Uncle Thomas came to me and told me bluntly, "You have been too kind to the lad, lassie, and he's got presumptuous. He must be taught his place. I mistrust we have all made more of him than we should." He told me that I should not make such an equal of him anymore. Not that I should not treat him kindly, but just to keep in mind that he was a man, and we were not children any longer.

I did not really understand what exactly he meant, but I felt that Uncle was right. Neil had been very withdrawn of late. Once he had an outburst towards me, about which I still don't know why, for Uncle hauled him away very quickly. I was beginning to be more frightened of him, which I also did not like. We had been friends all our lives, and now there was some great divide between us. Eric accounted for much of it, I instinctively knew, but in what precise way was a mystery. But this had began long before Eric, and I supposed it was merely a part of growing up.

One day, Eric came to me, face aglow, and said he had some good news for me. I looked up expectantly as I waited to see what it was. Eric sat down and enthusiastically said, "Well, Kilmeny, as you know, I have been teaching the Lindsay school for a friend. It was only supposed to be for a few months, just until the end of the term. But I have just spoken to the board, and it is now official. I've taken the school for another year, so I will be staying right here in Lindsay… with you!"

My heart leaped at the news. I had known he had been the Lindsay schoolmaster in place of someone else who was sick. But never had it crossed my mind that he might have had to go home! I was so very glad that I did not have to think of it for a very long time yet. I told him how pleased I was, and my music rang with the joy of us both.

Every day brought us some new joy. One day it was finding a robin's nest, another it was the new kittens in the barn. We would laugh over Belle, the calf, skipping about in her paddock. Sometimes Eric would help me with the weeding of the garden, and we'd exclaim over the young plants and how close it might be to harvest them. I also would tease him over something or other, finding it fun to dash the young man's fantasies into pieces with a well written script of words. But Eric never minded, but thrilled in our banter. All in all, life felt rich and full of things, even if I never went into the big world out beyond.

There was some mysterious going ons too. Uncle Thomas had to go to Radnor to pick up some surprise that Eric was making for me. I was not permitted to go near the barn when he came back, and I was told to make myself scarce until Eric could fix it up for me. I didn't have a clue about what the surprise could be, yet I was pleased that he would do such a thing for me.

I meandered around until I came to a large beech tree beyond the orchard. It wasn't often I went this far, but my feet had taken me this way. The sky was a robin's egg blue with a few white floaty clouds. I held a white Mary lily that I had plucked from the orchard, its perfume filling my nostrils as I dreamed of 'faerylands forlorn'. Suddenly, I saw Eric coming my way, and for once I did not run to him in gladness. Something in me would not let me anymore. Instead, I waited as I leaned on the fence for him to come to me.

As Eric was close to me, he had such a smile and a rich warmth in his voice as he chuckled and quoted to me some lines from my namesake ballad.

_Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been_

_Long hae we sought baith holt and den,_  
By linn, by ford, and greenwood tree!  
Yet you are halesome and fair to see.  
Where got you that joup o' the lily sheen?  
That bonny snood o' the birk sae green,  
And those roses, the fairest that ever was seen?  
Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?

I had to sigh silently and think of how different I was from  _that_ Kilmeny. How pretty she must have been. A pretty name for a pretty girl, and I… but my thoughts were interrupted by Eric's musing, as he looked at me carefully, "Only it's a lily and not a rose you are carrying. I might go on and quote the next couplet too:

_Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace,_

_But there was nae smile on Kilmeny's face._

"Why are you looking so sober?"

I couldn't answer him, but by the look on his face, I could see he could guess what I would say perfectly well. He shook his head then his eyes danced with happiness and pleasure. He merrily gestured and said, "Come down to the house, Kilmeny. I have something there to show you… something lovelier than you have ever seen before."

Nodding in eagerness, I took his hand and followed him back to the house. As we passed through the orchard, Eric spied the Mary lily plot where I had taken mine. He seemed to consider a moment and stopped walking. Then he looked me up and down and nodded to himself. He told me his wishes, and I listened carefully, "I want you to go and put on that muslin dress you wore last Sunday evening, and pin up your hair the same way you did then. Run along… don't wait for me. But you are not to go into the parlour until I come. I want to pick some of those Mary-lilies up in the orchard."

I nodded and ran to the house and up to my room. I pulled out the muslin dress that he'd wanted me to wear and considered it a moment. It had been my mother's and fitted me perfectly, so there was no need to alter it. I liked how the light fabric clung to my frame and trailed a little bit behind me. It was a perfect cream colour that pleased me very much, and I slipped it on.

Next, I brushed out my hair and rebraided it. I now pinned the thick braid around my head like a coronet, and fastened one of the white roses above my ear. I stood up and made sure my dress hung just right, then went down the stairs where Eric was waiting at the bottom with an armful of white lilies. He seemed very pleased with me, though I couldn't imagine why.

I followed his instructions closely as he said, "Take these lilies on your arm, letting their bloom fall against your shoulder… so. Now, give me your hand and shut your eyes. Don't open them until I say you may."

I closed my eyes tightly and let him slip an arm through my free one and guide me to, I presumed, the parlor. He was careful, and I did not bump into anything, and finally, he cried with a boyishly excited tone, "Look!"

Opening my eyes, I looked into a large picture framed with gold. In it I saw a lovely girl standing there. She was the prettiest creature I had ever seen, and I took in her muslin dress, black hair wrapped around her head, and lilies on her arm and bright blue eyes. Suddenly, I knew exactly what that was.

That was no picture! The girl in the picture was me. I was the pretty woman, in what I now knew was a mirror… reflecting back at me. I dropped my flowers in shock, and the girl in the mirror dropped hers too. I made a little cry involuntarily and pulled my hands over my face, finding it too much to take in.

Warm hands on mine drew them away from my face, and Eric laughed merrily. He stepped beside me and I saw his reflection next to mine in the mirror. He pointed, and the mirror Eric pointed back, and he gaily asked, "Kilmeny, do you think you are ugly now? This is a truer mirror than Aunt Janet's silver sugar bowl! Look! Look! Look! Did you ever imagine anything fairer than yourself, dainty Kilmeny?"

I felt the heat rush to my face, and the girl in the mirror had flushed cheeks. I was so happy to find that I was  _not_  ugly after all. It might have been foolish to take such stock in that, but I did feel so much lighter, as a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I wasn't ugly! I was pretty! Finally, I calmed down enough to remember my slate on the table and slipped to get it, sneaking looks in the mirror as I went. I smiled at Eric in thanks for this wonderful surprise and wrote, "I think I am pleasant to look upon. I cannot tell you how glad I am. It is so dreadful to believe one is ugly. You can get used to everything else, but you never get used to that. It hurts just the same every time you remember it. But why did mother tell me I was ugly? Could she really have thought so? Perhaps I have become better looking since I grew up."

I watched him with genuine puzzlement. Had Mother really lied to me? Or had she thought I really wasn't lovely? I wondered again at my mother, as I had done much of lately, for what she told me and reality were no longer one and the same.

Eric was kind and gentle as he said, "I think perhaps your mother had found that beauty is not always a blessing, Kilmeny, and thought it wiser not to let you know you possessed it."

He cocked his head at me, then held a hand out to me after picking up my dropped lilies, and suggested going back to the orchard for the evening. But he did warn me with an impish grin, "Don't look into the mirror too often, though, or Aunt Janet will disapprove. She is afraid it will make you vain."

I had to laugh, and it bubbled out in a musical peal, so funny was the thought. I had been so ingrained into thinking I was ugly that it seemed amusing that I should become the opposite: vain. I did not think that very likely to happen. Before we went though, I must say goodbye to the girl in the mirror, and blew an airy kiss at her. Now gladly I put my hand in Eric's and skipped like a child to our favourite place, the old orchard.

As we made our way to the orchard in the beauty of the evening, the children's moon high in the sky, I saw a figure hurrying up the lane. Instinctively, I drew closer to Eric, who always made me feel safe. It was Neil, and though he passed us by without a word or a look, I still could not restrain a shiver of fear. I must explain, so I wrote with a nervous air, "I don't understand Neil at all now. He is not nice, as he used to be, and sometimes he will not answer when I speak to him. And he looks so strangely at me, too. Besides, he is surly and impertinent to Uncle and Aunt."

Eric nodded in understanding, but reassured me to not mind him. He told me that the fellow was likely only sulky because he had said somethings to him when Eric had found out that Neil had spied on us.

I did not like to think of what happened, but was content to not ask further about that incident. That night had been so terrible that I preferred to not think about it anymore. So I only nodded, and then we had a very lovely evening.

When I came back to the house after bidding Eric good night, I could not help myself. I had to have another look, and carried my candle into the dark parlor. No, it hadn't been a dream. I still was very nice to look upon, and I studied my features closely. Then I pretended to talk to the girl in the mirror, and that's when Aunt Janet appeared in the mirror. I turned around to look at the real Aunt and smiled sheepishly at her, remembering Eric's warning.

But Aunt Janet did not seem to mind, but had her usual words of wisdom, in a matter of fact voice, but with a note of pride anyhow, "Are you thinking about your own good looks, lassie? Ay, but remember that handsome is as handsome does."

I smiled at my Aunt, and told her I would try to remember that. After a moment, I added, "Oh, Aunt Janet, I am so glad I am not ugly. It is not wrong to be glad of that, is it?"

The look on Aunt Janet's face softened and she shook her head. She had a kind and understanding tone as she admitted, "No, I don't suppose it is, lassie. A comely face is something to be thankful for, as none know better than those who have never possessed it. I remember well when I was a girl...but that is neither here nor there." She paused and looked at me very carefully, watching my expression. Then she softly said, "The Master thinks you are wonderful bonny, Kilmeny."

I started at my aunt's words and suddenly without warning, my face flushed hotter than ever before. I froze to the spot, and stared at Aunt Janet. She nodded, and sighed a little before bidding me good night.

As soon as she had gone, I dashed upstairs to my room, shut the door, and flung myself onto my bed, cooling my burning face into my pillow. Now I knew. My heart had known for some time a great secret. But my head had denied it completely, not thinking it possible. But it was.

I was in love with Eric Marshall.

Joy and anguish mixed together as one at the realization. Love… love! I had believed I would never find love in my life. And I now knew in my heart that it was as Eric's book taught me: that it was a sacred thing, a beautiful thing, and blessed be the one who possessed it! And I had another knowledge: he loved me back. Of course he did. I thrilled in this, for a man loved me dearly, and my lover was my best friend.

My heart thrilled, then broke into pieces. I knew what would happen next now. He'd ask me to marry him. And… I was dumb. I couldn't speak. I know he didn't care about that, but I did. I loved him. Too much to drag him down. To do him any injustice. And he would be fettered if he married a dumb girl! I couldn't do that to him. But I loved him! I did want to spend the rest of my life with Eric Marshall.

I wrestled with my thoughts, and turned onto my back, so I faced the ceiling. And there I lay, wakeful and thoughtful, all the night long. Joy and pain both were my companions. And the knowledge that I needed to make some sort of decision for my life, the first of this kind. As morning dawned bright and fair, I knew what I must do.


	8. Chapter 8

When Eric came the next evening, I felt ill at ease, unable to relax around him. I loved him, so much. Yet, I was unable to share it. My white night had revealed so much to me. However, I hoped that perhaps I was wrong about him loving me, that he merely had an interest in me as a friend. In my deepest chamber of my heart, I knew somehow that this was not true, and I was lying to myself. But it would be better than the alternative to me.

I was quite reluctant to go to the orchard when he suggested it. Somehow, I no longer wished to be alone with just him and me. I wished to have my family nearby as a safe place. I felt I needed that shield around me, to guard me from that hurt that I was avoiding. However, I had no true excuse to deny him, so we went. I could not settle down, and was distracted easily, and only half listened to him. I knew I confused Eric by my behaviour, but I could not help it. Nor would I even attempt to explain.

At last, Eric gave it up for tonight, to my relief. I went back to my room slowly, questioning myself if I was doing the right thing. That week was dreadful. Every time I was with Eric, my resolve almost broke down, and my heart burst with the love that I felt for him, and then it would break the next moment for the love I felt for him. Yes, I realized I was thinking in circles, but that is how it was. It was a bewildering time, for I felt there was no one to speak frankly about this situation. And I had  _always_  been one to speak directly about whatever I felt. I was very unused to hiding my feelings, and yet, I  _must_  hide them! I did not wish to ruin my friendship with Eric, for it was still delightful.

I am afraid I gave him quite a hard time that week. I was aloof with him, and quite distracted. I felt far away from him, almost like my namesake heroine. She had sojourned in the land far away "where the rain never fell and the wind never blew" for seven years. I almost wished I could fly away to that still land like her. I was not afraid of Eric, but of what he would say. And as that week went by, I watched, listened, and pondered.

Even my music suffered. I could not play the same way I always had. It revealed too much of myself, and that would not do. And I would fight against the rising tide of feelings that sought to escape, and the bow was suddenly a clumsy thing in my hand. This irked me to no end, for I had never had this happen to me before, and I felt like a foolish beginner. At this moment, I had a longing for speech more than ever. Had I been able to speak, then I could conceal those feelings even better. But now my silence was dangerous, and could betray me before I was ready to reveal my secret thoughts.

I had just laid my violin down with an irritated frown, for the music did not please me one bit. Eric cocked his head at me and watched my expression, but I looked away from him to the scenery before me. It  _was_  a lovely evening in August. Where had the summer gone? But fall had its beauty as well. The wheat fields were becoming golden, the light soft and violet, and the sea played its own music as it crashed in the distance against the rocky shoreline.

I sat there unmoving on the old bench in the orchard, I felt Eric take my hands gently in his. Oh, they were warm and felt so right, but still I could not look at him. In a quiet but fervent voice, Eric finally spoke, "Kilmeny, I wish to speak with you about something that has been on my heart since the first time I saw you. I love you, dear, and I loved you from the first moment I saw you sitting right here on this bench that first evening. I was not looking for love at that time, but sometimes one comes across a person who enters your life seemingly out of nowhere, and just as suddenly means the world to you. You are that person, Kilmeny. You are the finest, tenderest, loveliest, most beautiful person I have ever known, dearest. You are not just beautiful in your features, but your heart is pure and beautiful. I love every part of you, and my heart is full of love. When I listen to my heart, Kilmeny, it whispers your name. And I never want to be parted from you. You are my most precious treasure, and I wish to spend the rest of my life with you." A pause, then a slight quiver of nervousness and happiness, "Kilmeny, will you be my wife?"

I had listened to this profession of love, feeling my face heat up, and now I felt the opposite. I paled with the realization of what had to happen, but I knew I must not interrupt. When he finally proposed, I couldn't do it anymore. I jerked my hands from his suddenly, covered my face, and burst into tears. He loved me, so much! And I was so happy that he did, but so devastated at what must occur. I sobbed into my hands, shaking with the emotions pouring through me.

Understandably, Eric was startled at this reaction, and tried to comfort me by putting an arm around me and pulling me into him as he usually did. He gazed at me and asked with concern, "Kilmeny, dearest, have I alarmed you? Surely you knew before that I loved you. Don't you care for me?"

I immediately pushed him away though, and shook my head at him. But I had to be honest, and took up my slate and quickly wrote, "Yes, I do love you, but I will never marry you, because I cannot speak."

This made Eric relax, and smile broadly at me. "Oh, Kilmeny, that doesn't make any difference to me...you know it doesn't, sweetest. If you love me that is enough."

He didn't understand at all, did he! He was delighted to know that I loved him, and that I had finally said it to him. And he believed the whole matter so very simple. It wasn't! I had to make him understand somehow. This would be very hard. I took my time in answering, for I wanted him to know the finality of my decision. I had thought it all over through my white night, and although it was painful for me, it was the  _right_  thing. And there was no changing my mind about that. "No, it is not enough. It would be doing you a great wrong to marry you when I cannot speak, and I will not do it because I love you too much to do anything that would harm you. Your world would think you had done a very foolish thing and it would be right. I have thought it all over many times since something Aunt Janet said made me understand, and I know I am doing right. I am sorry I did not understand sooner, before you had learned to care so much."

But he shook his head in turn, and told me that I had gotten a very absurd fantasy in my head. He didn't understand in the least. Then he asked me if I understood how miserable he would be if I refused him.

I hid the wince at that, but stood firm on my convictions, telling him that perhaps he believed that now, and I knew he would feel bad about the whole thing for a while. But he'd go away and forget all about me, and he would realize that I was right to set him free. I admitted that I would be terribly unhappy, for I did love him, but I could not spoil his life, no, not for my life would I do that. Determinedly, I boldy matched his gaze, willing him not to coax and plead.

The silly boy did it anyway. At first he tried being patient with lots of smiles, just as I was just being a foolish, silly child about it all. I did not waver from my stance and shook my head no. When he realized that I did mean what I said, he became quite vehement about it, but in a desperate manner. Still I said no. Why wouldn't Eric stop? Didn't he know how terribly hard this was on me? I was on the point of feeling very unwell from all this begging, and did not even try to answer him back with my slate. I just listened, heard him out politely, then would shake my head no. Oh, such terrible suffering that I went through, putting up with his coaxing and pleading!

I wanted so much to be his wife, of course I did. But I loved him too much. And this he failed to know. I wanted the best in life for this man, and I would not be that. My love for him was so intense and deep, a well that had no bottom, that I knew that I would be a poor choice of wife for him and his world. I could not belong to it, and he would regret having me. Or else others would give him such trouble over me, that I would forever be guilty of being a hindrance for him. No, I loved him too much to do him this very great wrong. If I could speak, I would marry him in a heartbeat.

At last I had quite enough of him and this ruined friendship. For he couldn't continue to be friends unless he stopped his foolishness in pursuing this useless course. I stood up, shook my head no one more time, then went away to the house, leaving a despairing man behind me. As soon as I got to my room, I collapsed, and cried myself to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, I was not terribly surprised when Eric came again and renewed his pleading. I would not stir a hair from my resolution, though it was hard! So very hard! I wanted to give in, but something inside me just couldn't. This was surely the right thing for Eric. And that I knew in the deepest part of my soul. So I had to sadly refuse again and again.

Quite driven to distraction, Eric finally left me alone. I wiped the tears I would not shed in front of him and slipped away to my room. I met no one, and sat in my chair. How much longer was this to go on? When would Eric understand? Heaving a sigh, I slipped off to refill my jug of water. When I returned, unheard and unnoticed by anyone, I heard voices downstairs. I had to pause and strain my ears to listen, for it was Eric speaking to Aunt Janet. He was going to try and get her to talk to me! Well, that was a useless endeavor.

I was about to turn away when I heard Aunt Janet speaking about Margaret. Margaret was my mother, and I now listened carefully. This sounded serious, indeed. I raised an eyebrow when she told Eric that I had never heard this story, for she felt it was not fit for my ears. Was this to do with my father? Should not I know this then? Eric knew all about what had happened between my mother and Ronald Fraser, my father. How heartbroken she had been when his first wife had returned to him, not dead after all. And then he had left with her, leaving my mother with a shattered heart. All this I knew. What further was there to my story?

Deciding that I must know, if it was important to my decision, I settled down in a hidden corner to overhear the story. Aunt Janet's voice floated up to me: "My sister Margaret was a very proud, high-spirited girl, Master. But I would not have you think she was unlovable. No, no, that would be doing a great injustice to her memory. She had her faults as we all have; but she was bright and merry and warm-hearted. We all loved her. She was the light and life of this house. Yes, Master, before the trouble that came on her Margaret was a winsome lass, singing like a lark from morning till night. Maybe we spoiled her a little… maybe we gave her too much of her own way."

I thought about my mother, and wondered how different she must have been. I had never known her as Aunt Janet described. She had been serious much of the time, thought sometimes in secret times with just us two, I had indeed seen glimpses of the woman she had used to be. But it was just not the same. I knew about what happened with my father, how mother had fallen for him. And yet he was still married to another, although he hadn't known it. Mother had admitted to me that he hadn't, but at first, she had believed that he had known about his other wife, and had lied to her. But on her deathbed, she told me all. And that she was sorry that she had treated him so. It must have been a shock when she had shown up, not dead after all, and wanting Ronald Fraser back. Then he had died shortly after, and many said it was out of heartbreak, for he loved my mother more.

Turning my attention back to the conversation, I heard my aunt talking about my grandfather. He had died before I was born, but she had always talked of him fondly. She told Eric that Grandfather "was a very proud man", and that Mother had gotten her pride from him. And it had hurt him terribly with what happened with Ronald Fraser, especially as he had not been willing about the marriage in the first place, but had been willing to give the man a chance.

She told how she had come home in shame and disgrace, holding on to Uncle Thomas' arm and wanting to be comforted. But "Father called her a hard name, Master. Oh, he was too hard… even though he was my father I must say he was too hard on her, broken-hearted as she was, and guilty of nothing more after all than a little willfulness in the matter of her marriage. And father was sorry for it. Oh, Master, the word wasn't out of his mouth before he was sorry for it. But the mischief was done. Oh, I'll never forget Margaret's face, Master! It haunts me yet in the black of the night. It was full of anger and rebellion and defiance. But she never answered him back."

Mother had been terribly hurt by this, so my aunt said, and refused to speak a word to him. She had been carrying me, and all through that, Mother never spoke a word to anyone. Grandfather implored her to forgive her, but yet she wouldn't speak. I was surprised, and yet not, to hear of this. Mother could be so very stubborn about certain things, as I had found out. I could be the same at times. I think she should have forgiven him though, if he was sorry about it. Yet, Mother was easily hurt by things, and things tended to rankle in her soul for a good long while. That was the way she was.

I was interrupted out of my thoughts by Aunt Janet's words, ""I haven't come to the worst yet, Master. Father sickened and took to his bed. Margaret would not go in to see him. Then one night Thomas and I were watching by him; it was about eleven o'clock. All at once he said,  
'Janet, go up and tell the lass'... he always called Margaret that… it was a kind of pet name he had for her… 'that I'm deein' and ask her to come down and speak to me afore I'm gone.'"

Her breath hitched, and she told Eric that she went to tell Mother. She cried and pleaded, and…  _even knelt to my mother_. Yet, Mother never moved or even acknowledged her sister! Eventually Janet had to leave and tell Grandfather about the refusal. And what did he do? I would have thought he would have been furious, but no. He was kind and loving to her, and made them help him out of his deathbed. Uncle Thomas helped him to her room… here I trembled. I had never heard my aunt so distracted and tremulous. She continued with her story, "And he prayed Margaret to forgive him—to forgive him and speak just one word to him before he went to meet her mother. Master...she would not… she would not! And yet she  _wanted_ to speak… afterwards she confessed to me that she wanted to speak. But her stubbornness wouldn't let her. It was like some evil power that had gripped hold of her and wouldn't let go."

Terror struck me at this story. No wonder Aunt and Uncle had never told me this. It was a frightening and horrible story. I saw my mother in a very different light, and understood that there was likely something very wrong with her upstairs. But yet I loved my mother, for she was my mother. A tear slipped down my cheek as Janet explained, " _That_  was her sin, Master, and for that sin the curse fell on her unborn child."

Grandfather's last words were, "Lass, you're a hard woman." Then he died as Aunt and Uncle were trying to get him back to his room. With no word of forgiveness from my mother.

Aunt Janet continued to explain to Eric that I was born a month later, and Mother felt the evil thing lose its power. She cried and spoke freely, and was back to herself again. They forgave her fully and readily, but the one she had sinned against most was gone, and that was on my mother's conscience forever. "But she was gentle and kind and humble until… until she began to fear that Kilmeny was never going to speak. We thought then that she would go out of her mind. Indeed, Master, she never was quite right that is the story and it's a thankful woman I am that the telling of it is done. Kilmeny can't speak because her mother wouldn't."

I heard no more of that conversation. I had heard enough, and fled to my room to think things over. It had been a dreadful tale, yet somehow I felt relieved to know it. I had known that there had been some mysterious secret over my inability to speak, but at the same time, Aunt Janet had been unwilling to tell me. Now that I had heard it, I wondered. I wondered about my mother, my father, all of it.

A knocking at my door, and I answered it. Aunt Janet told me Eric might have an idea, but he wished to speak of it to me. Hopefully, I went downstairs to see him. He looked weary, but told me, "Kilmeny, I have been told that you have never had a doctor look at you. I have a friend at home, dear, who is a throat specialist. I have asked your aunt for permission for him to examine you. She has consented, so I will send for him to come here."

A thrill of hope shot through me, and I felt the darkness of my mother's story fade away in a rosy glow of desire. I eagerly asked him,"Oh, do you think he can make me speak?" she wrote eagerly.

Eric smiled at me, and I could see the hope in his own eyes too as he took my hand and brushed my cheek with his other hand. Gently, he asked, "I don't know, Kilmeny. I hope that he can, and I know he will do all that mortal skill can do. If he can remove your defect will you promise to marry me, dearest?"

I didn't hesitate one bit, but gave him a very serious nod. This would be a sacred promise between us. I wanted him to know just how much I wanted to marry him. I think he knew though, and my cheek thrilled with his soft touch. I almost wanted him to kiss me again, but I knew not to allow that sort of thing until I had received a cure. But I made him that promise we both wanted so much, "Yes. When I can speak like other women I will marry you."


	10. Chapter 10

Eric explained it all to me the next day when he came. He had already written and posted his letter to his friend, David Baker. He reassured me that his friend was very reliable and would come to Prince Edward Island very hastily, if ever Eric asked for it. He was very hopeful about it all, and it would be amiss to say that I was not.

I could tell Aunt Janet hoped the same thing, but Uncle Thomas seemed doubtful. He mentioned something along the lines of, "Some things are best left to Providence, and mortal man should not intervene."

Thinking over the story I had overheard from my aunt, I could see why he might think that way. But perhaps it was the strangest coincidence, and this doctor could do something for me. How I longed to speak! I had always had that great wish that I could speak like others, and now… it was of the greatest importance. It almost felt like my life was hanging in the balance. I felt all afire with excitement and ever so nervous at the same time at the thought of this strange doctor coming to look at me. Was there anything he could do? And if so, what would it be? I sincerely hoped whatever procedure he did would not be too difficult. But I trusted Eric, which meant in turn, I trusted this unknown man, because Eric said that David Baker was his best friend.

We spent that week awaiting Dr. Baker's arrival. This time, however, there was a bit of a strain in our relationship. The marriage we never talked about. Eric was free to profess his love for me at various moments, and while I did thrill to hear it, I was reluctant to say it back. I wanted to know about the doctor first, and see if he could help me. However, I asked plenty of questions about Eric and his friend, and he hid nothing from me. It was so very interesting to hear how Eric had grown up with this man, and to hear the respect in his voice was quite wonderful to me.

I did not play in front of Eric that week. Somehow, I just couldn't. But I did play on my own, with no one listening. I could pour out my soul into my music then, without feeling I was revealing too much. I played out my hopes, dreams, sadness, despair, joy, love, and the songs the wind brought to me.

Neil was very much changed with me. I did not try to talk to him much, minding what Uncle had said to me. But Neil seemed angry with me, and would go out of his way to avoid me. He would disappear for the day as often as not, and on Saturdays and Sundays, we would not know where he was. It was saddening to me to have lost Neil's friendship, but puzzling as well. I did not know why it had happened, or what I had done to merit this. I sensed that something had gone wrong between him and Eric, but I did not ask, not wishing to pry.

One morning, I sat in the orchard with my dear violin. I just played from my heart, and what came from it was a wild sorrowful music, but very sweet at the same time. I was pouring out my wishes to the skies, but doubtful that would happen. At last, I noticed movement in the trees, and put my violin down, fully expecting Eric. As he appeared, I immediately saw an older man with him, and perceived it was Dr. David Baker. He was not overly handsome, but his face was kind. I liked him very much, and rose to meet them. Daintily, I brushed down my dress to make sure the folds fell in the right way, and I felt my face flush a little. I was nervous of meeting another strange man, but at the same time, I was so hopeful that he could cure me.

The man stared at me, but I met his eyes this time, knowing with a glad thrill inside me that it was  _not_  because I was ugly. He seemed quite amazed to see me, and I smiled at him shyly. Eric looked so very proud, and I felt his love for me. Introductions were not needed but Eric told me anyway, "Kilmeny, this is my friend, Dr. Baker."

I smiled at Dr. Baker and held out my hand for him. Immediately, I felt at ease with this man. Dr. Baker took my hand in his and greeted me with a polite kiss, but seemed quite tongue tied. I hid a giggle at this, and it only served to relax me further. There was nothing to fear with this man. I was only a bit shy, for I had little experience with strange people. I was proud of myself, for this meeting with the doctor was vastly different from when I had met Eric himself. I had run from him, poor man! But I would not run now, no, nor did I harbour one thought of it.

I waved at Dr. Baker to invite him up the wild cherry lane back to the house. I led the way, as Dr. Baker dropped back to speak to Eric. I could not hear what he said, but I would have likely have paid little attention anyway. All my thoughts were on my hope that I might be able to speak. And to speak meant to marry the love of my life.

Eric quickly introduced his friend to Aunt and Uncle then had to leave for his school. He did however, give me a hug, and a whispered, "Good luck, Kilmeny. You're in good hands with David." He brushed a soft kiss on my temple, gave me an encouraging smile, then hurried away before he could be late.

As soon as he was gone, Dr. Baker turned brisk and professional, "I understand you prefer being called Kilmeny instead of Miss Gordon?" At my nod, he continued, "Alright, Kilmeny. I am going to examine your mouth and throat. It will not hurt you at all. I'll do it right here in this kitchen, where there is plenty of light. Would you prefer privacy, or is it alright with you if your family stays if they wish?"

I answered with my usual neat writing, "I trust you to do whatever seems good to you. And I have no objections to Aunt and Uncle staying if that is what they would like."

Aunt Janet and Uncle Thomas smiled at me encouragingly and Uncle said, "Well, I guess we'll stay. I, for one, am rather curious to see what you do. And I like to learn things, Doctor, so I'll just stay around out of the way." He then sat in a chair with Aunt Janet and watched everything that went on with curiosity.

The doctor motioned me to a seat in the best light. His voice was kind and put me at ease as he explained everything. "Please open your mouth, Kilmeny, and I'll have a look around." I did so, and listened to him as he poked around and told me exactly what he was doing. It helped my nerves so much, and it  _was_  interesting to listen to him. I could see in a moment why Eric liked him so much.

Dr. Baker first felt my jaw with his fingers, saying, "I'm pretty certain that you do not have a fracture, but one must eliminate all the causes, whether they are plausible or not." Satisfied with my jaw, he gave me a tongue depressor, which looked just like a flat stick and told me, "Bite down on this and let me know if this pains you at all." He laid the depressor down on one side of my mouth and let me bite down on it. He then twisted it and it easily snapped. He repeated it on the other side with the same result. I was puzzled at the purpose of this, and he explained, "This is what we call a tongue blade test. If you had a fracture, you wouldn't have been able to break it. I am pleased to see you, in fact, do not have a fracture."

Smiling at me, he put me at further ease with the pleased expression on his face. Now he asked, "Please open your mouth wide, Kilmeny. I'm going to check your tongue. Then I will look at your throat. Just let me know whenever something hurts or you need a break."

I gave him a smile and a nod before I opened my mouth wide for the Dr. Baker. I hoped he could see what was wrong with me. I didn't know what he could to fix my problem, and that thought was scary, but I knew it would be worth any pain or trouble. My attention was brought back to the doctor as he hummed and said, "Kilmeny, can you move your tongue from side to side, then up and down?" I did so easily, then he asked me to touch my tongue on the roof of my mouth. He nodded and said, "Good. Your frenulum looks fine. That's the little flap of skin under your tongue that attaches it to the floor of your mouth. Sometimes it's too short and it makes it difficult to speak." Now I watched as the doctor opened up a small box and held a funny looking instrument. I could see Aunt and Uncle leaning forward to see what it was too.

Dr. Baker held it up for us to see, and pride was in his voice as he told us, "This is a very new instrument. It's called a laryngoscope. It has a light inside it so we can see down throats. It has a battery in it." He turned it on for us and Uncle exclaimed to see the light that shone from it. "It's a miracle!" he said. But Dr. Baker gave him a warm smile, and told him, "Not quite, but it  _has_  been so very helpful to us. Medicine keeps turning new corners."

Turning back to me, he again asked for a wide open mouth and peered down my throat. "Breathe normally, Kilmeny. Good, nothing looks swollen. Can you say 'aaah'?"

I tried, but I couldn't. I flushed with embarrassment, but he was quick to pat me on the shoulder. "That's alright, Kilmeny. You are doing very well. Can you cough for me instead?" I did, and a very small sound came out. "Wonderful, Kilmeny. Now this may be a little uncomfortable, but I promise you it'll be over in a second." He reached in with the tongue depressor and touched something and I instantly gagged. I scrunched up my nose, and he chuckled. "Sorry. I needed to see if your vocal cords or the surrounding areas were paralyzed. They aren't, which is a good thing. The nerves look alright as well."

Now Dr. Baker pulled back and frowned at me in thought. He sighed and his voice was kind and gentle. "I won't bother testing your mental capacity… it is obvious you have a good mine and I do not see any evidence of a brain injury that would cause muteness. What this all means, Kilmeny, is that you are in perfect health. There is nothing physically wrong with you."

I stared at him in shock, my hopes having been so high, now plummeted down to my feet. I heard Aunt Janet gasp, but Uncle Thomas was direct, "Dr. Baker, what does that mean for us exactly? Can you do anything for her?"

He shook his head reluctantly. " **I**  can do nothing for her," he said slowly. "I have a theory, but it does not matter. The fact is that I, the top throat specialist, cannot do anything for her."

I felt crushed and small, but I gave him a brave nod. Looking over at Aunt and Uncle, I could tell what they thought. It was the curse that my mother gave me. That was why I was unable to speak, and I never would. That also meant one thing: I would never marry Eric Marshall. That was a dream shattered and would never be put right again.

Dr. Baker looked guilty for not being able to help me. I could tell he had really wanted to. I barely heard Janet invite him for dinner, but I could not stay. I needed to be by myself and think things over. I smiled at him, guessing the pain shone from my eyes, because it was in my heart. I went up the stair and closed the door to my room quietly, lay on my bed, and had a good cry.

Eric would come again. That much I was certain of. This must not happen. My heart was broken, and I wanted to see him. But I knew it would be bad for both of us. He must stay away, and learn that it was for his own good. When I had calmed down enough to think, I grabbed my slate and wrote neatly on it, "Do not come anymore, Eric. I must not see you, because it would only make it harder for us both. You must go away and forget me. You will be thankful for this some day. I shall always love you and pray for you." I could not help the tears from falling and blotting some of my writing, but I could not bear to wipe it off and start again. When I was sure that the doctor was gone, I went down briefly to hand it to Aunt Janet before making my retreat back to my room again. Thankfully, they left me alone. I was sure thought that Eric would ask to see me anyway.

Sure enough, later Aunt Janet was knocking at my door. She smiled sadly at me and said, "The Master is here, Kilmeny, asking for you. He did see your note, but he wanted me to come up and ask you to see him anyway. Do you want to, child?"

Oh, but I did. But I was stubbornly determined. I was in the right to break this off now and make it a clean cut. It would hurt terribly for some time, but it would better. I could also see that Aunt Janet agreed with me and came into give me an encouraging hug, then left to tell Eric.

I was not surprised that Eric tried again the next afternoon, and again said no. I was very thankful to Uncle Thomas when he told me he had spoken to Eric and told him determinedly not to come again. He was honest and said that he liked the Master very much, and that he had been a good friend. But he agreed that if it was not to be, and I would not change my mind on the matter, that it was best for this way. I felt grateful to him that I would not be constantly hounded. I gave him a hug and the arms that wrapped around me were warm and comforting. And I also knew another thing. Even if I had lost true love, as in the love of a man, I had another that I would never, ever lose. The love of family was permanent, and never fade away with the passage of time.


	11. Chapter 11

How I got up the next morning, I couldn't have told you. I felt tired and drained, as if my life energy was gone. Perhaps it was, for all that. I had cried myself to sleep last night, and had risen with fresh tears on my face. Love was not a beautiful thing after all. It was a terrible monster, seeping through your soul and tearing your heart out in painful pieces. I started to wish that I have never met or heard of Eric Marshall. But then another part of me was so glad I did.

For one thing, Eric had breathed life into my existence… life I had not known was missing. I had been happy before, with the farm chores, interacting with my family, but now it seemed pale and colourless. I had grown up from a little girl to a young woman over a few months, and it was impossible to fall back into the innocent childhood again. I was a woman with crushed hopes and dreams, a woman who had been kissed by a man and wooed, not a child who knew nothing about love and true happiness.

I worked hard with Belle, my calf, as a way to distract myself. She needed to be halter trained, and she was very stubborn about it. But I didn't mind the struggle at all… it was something I needed to do to ignore the pain in my heart. Belle was so pretty, pretty enough that Uncle Thomas said he should bring her to the fair next year and she could win prizes. I didn't even think of going myself, for that was the big wide world. There was a difference this time in my thinking, for before I had believed myself too ugly for strangers to see. Now I knew I was not, but still, the thought of strangers and my dumbness made me quake. If I had Eric at my side now, it might have been alright. But it was not to be. And I had no desire now to leave my home than I did before, even it was now for different reasons.

The following day I spent much of it helping Aunt Janet, though I could tell she knew I wasn't very focused on my on my work. My butter churning was lumpy. I'd missed a few eggs, and forgotten to feed the hens as well. My stitches were crooked and I had to rip out so many that eventually, I just gave up on the sewing. Aunt Janet had bought me a soft new material to make a new dress out of for winter, and it was so pretty that I couldn't bear to do anything with it at the moment. All I could think of was how Eric would never see me in it again.

I struggled with those thoughts over the course of the day and the next. Eric had become such an integral part of my life that to have him suddenly gone… felt like my heart had been ripped out and I was expected to keep on living somehow. How was I supposed to go on? But I  _must_  go on. This had been my decision, my choice. It was for the best. His happiness was far more important than mine. Eric has so much promise and people at home waiting for him, and he'd said he wanted to take over his father's firm. There was so much in his life that was just waiting for him. And someone like me would just ruin all of that for him. No, I must stick to my decision. Even if it hurt… and oh, it did… I knew I was doing the right thing.

I also longed for another thing. The orchard. It had been a friend to me for so long that I felt I had abandoned it now, not having gone there since the day Dr. Baker examined me. I didn't even try to play my music, for I knew the music would only be too sad. But I should not have left a dear friend like the orchard. I determined to go the next day. Perhaps it would help heal my heartbreak. It had always been there for me growing up. All my joys, tears, pain, loss, smiles, and those of others long ago and been wrought into its sweet leaves of memories. And there, I had been wooed as a sweetheart by her lover. There I would find peace and in the flowers and trees and the wind singing. Yes, tomorrow, I would go as soon as my morning chores were done. I would leave long before evening, for I had a feeling that Eric would come then. And him I would not see.

I knew I was still pale and droopy as I languished over the breakfast table. I'd taken a peek in the mirror and for the first time, had been displeased over my appearance. I was paler than ever before, and now there were dark blue shadows under my eyes. I'd not slept well, worse last night than before, and I turned away from my reflection. I could sense Uncle Thomas staring at me with frank concern on his face. I picked at my food then when I could not eat more, I was excused. Though when I put the dishes away, I heard him mutter to himself, "She won't stand it. She isn't long for this world. Maybe it is all for the best, poor lass. But I wish that young Master had never set foot in the Connors orchard, or in this house. Margaret, Margaret, it's hard that your child should have to be paying the reckoning of a sin that was sinned before her birth."

Shrugging off the foreboding in Uncle's tone, I went for a walk to the orchard. I brought neither violin nor slate, for I needed nothing today. I could not play my music, for it would have turned out too sad. And I would be alone on this walk. I drifted along the lane slowly, thinking. Neil had gone out earlier, presumably to town. Aunt was going to start a new quilt, which I normally did love helping her with. Perhap I still would after my walk. Uncle had his chores. I had few thoughts of the beauty that surrounded me, where normally I would have noticed the white June lilies, the purple asters waving, the blue forget me nots shyly peeping out from underfoot. I could just hear the waves crashing on the shore - the tide was coming in again. The earth was soft under my feet and I started to relax slightly in the breeze that blew both salty and sweet. Salty from the ocean, sweet from the flowers that danced in the wind.

Approaching the gap into the orchard, I paused, hesitating. I ran my fingers down the weathered wood of the fence and stared at the rich browns of it. Then I looked up as I stepped forward into my favourite place, the orchard. I hoped it would welcome me back as a friend.

What met my eyes was a familiar figure in the shadows of an overhanging tree. Eric Marshall. He was sitting facing away from me on a wooden post that had fallen on the ground. I felt myself flush deeply and I froze to the spot. He was here! I didn't know why he was here, but in one rush of emotion, I was so glad to see him. I was qui-

My thoughts broke off as I now saw the most horrifying sight in my life. Neil! Neil left the shadows, tip toeing over to Eric, and in his hand he carried an axe. But it was his eyes that scared me the most. They were dark, burning, and… possessed. Horror filled my entire being as I understood exactly what he meant to do.

He was going to murder my lover!

Several things flashed into my mind instantly. I knew that Neil must be stopped. Eric must live! I also could not run towards Eric and warn him with a touch… by then it would be far too late. But I must warn Eric! I must! I  **must**!

Something surged through my body, desire, love, horror… something swept away all the barriers, the pain, the grief, all was washed away in a tide. The chains snapped. The cage burst open. As Neil raised his axe high, his face full of murderous intent with those strange blazing eyes, I sprang.

" **Eric, Eric, look behind you - look behind you!** "

I did not think a moment of who shrieked. It was not a voice I had ever heard before but it had the effect that I so desired. Eric was startled, and whipped around to see what had happened. And in that instant, the spell over Neil was broken. He jumped a foot in the air, dropped his axe at his feet and stared at me wildly. The evil thing in his eyes was gone, and we locked eyes for a brief moment. His eyes held shock, fear, and incredulousness. Then he spun on his heel with a wild cry that I would have expected to hear from an animal. Then he was gone.

Eric still looked stunned. His eyes went from me to the axe on the ground. He understood that he had had a very close brush of death, but he did not understand just who saved him. I suddenly smiled and laughed, for I knew.

Dashing over to him, I flung myself in his arms and looked up into his wonderful face, ignoring the haggard lines. "Oh, Eric, I can speak, I can speak! Oh, it is so wonderful! Eric, I love you… I love you!"

"Kilmeny?" Eric looked down at me in surprise. "You can speak? What… how…?" Then it hit him, the meaning of this. His eyes widened, but with a glad smile, "You  _can_  speak! Kilmeny! I love you too, darling. So, so much." With that, he cupped my chin in his warm, soft hand and lifted my face to his. Then he kissed me, and my heart exploded with love and happiness. I kissed him back and my world was right once again.

Eric pulled away, his eyes soft and tender. He then gave me the softest and gentlest of kisses and grinned at me. "A quote, Kilmeny, for you.  _Happiness is such a beautiful wish. Faith and hope and a butterfly kiss_."


	12. Chapter 12

After we pulled apart, I laughed softly, and asked him carefully, not trusting my voice, "Do you want to ask again?"

Eric beamed at me, and I could see all the love shining in his eyes and he dropped to one knee, taking one of my hands in his and simply asked, sure of his answer now, "Kilmeny Gordon, wil you marry me?"

"Yes," was all I needed to say. But the one word rang with love, triumph, and happiness. The next moment found warm arms around me, and I saw my future dawn bright and fair.

Jumping away from him and tugging his hand like a small child, I told him, "We must go tell Aunt and Uncle!" The beginning of it was too low, and the latter too high. I was not even embarrassed at my voice, for I knew it was a muscle, just like the rest of my body. It needed practice to get it right. I shouted with glee, and Eric acted like a school boy in his own joy. We ran as fast as our legs could take us to the house where we found Uncle Thomas outside. Aunt Janet dashed out from the kitchen, seemingly to fear something had happened to us.

I tried to tell them, but I was so out of breath and gasped for air. Uncle gave me one incredulous look but he let Eric explain as he too panted, "Kilmeny can speak! She can speak! Mr. Gordon! It's the most wonderful thing that has happened! Neil tried to kill me with an axe… I was sitting in the orchard… I was too deep in thought to hear him… she came… she saw us… and screamed my name out loud… and now she can speak! Neil ran away… I don't know where he is… but it doesn't matter. My darling! Kilmeny can talk… and marry me at last!"

Uncle Thomas was dumbstruck as he heard the story. When Eric had finally finished, he looked at me and back at Eric before ejaculating, "It is a miracle!" It seemed the only thing he could say for now.

"Oh, no, it is very wonderful, but it is not a miracle," Eric said. I turned in surprise at this news. It was a miracle to me. Dr. Baker had already said… but Eric continued, "David told me it might happen. I had no hope it would. He could explain it all to you if he were here."

Shaking his head, Uncle looked still quite shocked, but his senses were returning. "It is near enough to a miracle for me. Let us thank God reverently and humbly that he has seen fit to remove his curse from the innocent. Your doctors may explain it as they like, lad, but I'm thinking they won't get much nearer to it than that. It is awesome, that is what it is. Janet, woman, I feel as if I were in a dream. Can Kilmeny really speak?"

I smiled at him and knew it might take some time for us all to get used to the idea. I glanced over at Eric, eyes and heart full of love, and spoke easily, still trying to pitch my voice right, but it was already better than before, "Indeed I can, Uncle. Oh, I don't know how it came to me… I felt that I  **must**  speak… and I did. And it is so easy now, it seems to me as if I could always have done it."

"You have a lovely voice, Kilmeny," Eric told me with a smile. "It's very beautiful, just like the rest of you. The voice you should have… it's clear, soft, and musical. I love it very much."

Very pleased at this, I took his hand in mine once more and gave it a squeeze. Looking up into his eyes, I felt a wave of delight wash over me, and told him, "Oh, I am so glad that the first word I said was your name, dearest." I was so happy that it seemed that nothing could temper my joy.

However, it was Uncle Thomas who was straightforward and logical. "What about Neil?" he questioned. His brows furrowed with worry as he focused on the other half of our story. "What are we to do with him when he returns? In one way this is a sad business."

Aunt Janet gasped, and nodded gravely, "He really tried to kill you, Master? That just seems… too terrible to imagine." She looked sick at what had nearly happened, and I felt myself still too. If Eric… had been… I don't know how I would lived with myself.

Eric winced at that, but didn't seem too worried about his near brush with death. I supposed it had not really occurred to him yet. He was grave for a moment and shook his head. "We must forgive him, Mr. Gordon. I know how I should feel towards a man who took Kilmeny from me. It was an evil impulse to which he gave way in his suffering… and think of the good which has resulted from it." He seemed to harbour no ill will against Neil, and I felt at that moment he was a much better person than I was.

Uncle Thomas sighed, and pointed out, ""That is true, Master, but it does not alter the terrible fact that the boy had murder in his heart… that he would have killed you." He paused before admitting that Providence had overruled, preventing Neil from actually committing the crime, and, as he said, "brought good out of evil, but he is guilty in thought and purpose." Then his voice grew heavy with pain, for he had loved Neil as his own son, and Aunt Janet wiped a tear from her eye. He shook his head again and told Eric how much they had loved him, with all his faults. "It is a hard thing, and I do not see what we are to do. We cannot act as if nothing had happened. We can never trust him again." Again, Uncle's voice dropped down to disappointment with a note of disgust.

Deciding to leave that until later, Aunt Janet perked up and smiled at Eric, "Well, Master, since you are here, and things are alright between you and the lassie, would you stay for some supper?"

Giving a warm smile at her, Eric nodded, "I'd be delighted. I've missed your company, Janet." He'd been on first name basis with her after she had expressed the same sentiment as I had: not feeling like oneself with "Miss Gordon". He pulled me to him and I breathed in his scent and told me, "It'll be okay, Kilmeny. I'll stay for a while… in case something happens. I'll protect you."

"Thank you," I replied softly, and went inside to help Aunt Janet. I had mixed feelings. I was so glad I could speak and would quietly talk to myself as I went about my work. I saw my slate still on the table and picked up. I would never need this again, and it seemed strange to me. This little slate, something I'd been so heavily dependent on, was no longer a "friend" to me. It was almost with reluctance that I put it in my drawer. I would not get rid of it, but keep it as a memory.

Eric stayed to help Uncle Thomas with the chores, but I could see Uncle was sober and quiet and did not say much. At last we had sat down to eat, and Uncle said the blessing. Supper was quiet, the conversation mostly staying to the weather or other small talk. Eric smiled at me when he left and promised that he would come back tomorrow after school, and we would have a proper talk about the future.

I sat down to my stitching and Uncle was thoughtful as he sat in his favourite chair. Then the silence was broken by Uncle, "You know we must tell Sheriff Bridges. He cannot be allowed back here."

I looked up in surprise, but sighed. Aunt asked the question on her mind, "Must we? I mean… I know he…"

Uncle Thomas interrupted, shifting uncomfortably, "I am both afraid of him and for him. He… actually tried to take another man's life, Janet. After all that we taught him! I fear what will happen to him later in his life. He is still young yet, woman, but already he is…" he shook his head, and admitted, "I locked the doors."

My head snapped up at that. Uncle locked the doors? Around here, it was almost unheard of. Would Neil come back and hurt us? I saw the pain in my uncle's eyes and the sob from my aunt's lips. My own heart felt crushed, but now I knew why I had felt like I had with Neil. There had been something dark and dangerous about him, and it had terrified me. Would he come back and try to murder us all? I gave a cry of fear, and the next moment, I felt once again strong arms around me. "Shh, lass. I won't let anyone touch you. I'll be up all night. Just in case."

It turned out we needlessly worried. A man from the village, Arthur Frame, came and knocked on the door that evening. I shyly hid out of sight, not wishing to see him, but I stayed within earshot. The man curtly greeted him, "Mr. Gordon. I just wanted to see you lot were alright."

"We are, thank you, why? Where is Neil? We have been looking for him," Uncle asked cautiously.

"He's gone, Thomas. I didn't know whether you knew or not. He rode up to Lincoln's place, my brother, you know, at a gallop. He offered Lincoln that black filly of his that my brother has always wanted for sixty dollar if he would drive him to the train station. Lincoln jumped at that chance, and off they went. He did tell me that Neil hadn't any luggage of any sort, and wouldn't speak a word to him. But he's gone on the harvest excursion. You know tonight is the last boat trip. Lincoln said he looked as black as the old Scratch himself. You sure you alright? You have a row of sorts?"

Uncle took some time to answer and his words were slow and ponderous, "Yes, you could say that. I think it is best that he is gone and does not return. He frightened Kilmeny badly by behaving… wrongly. It is best he is gone. Thank you for telling me."

There was a click as the door shut and he came back into the room. Looking at me, Uncle gave a faint smile, "It seems as if Neil solved his own problem. If he sold the filly, that he cherished as his own child… he will not be back. He's gone for good, that I can feel."

"I feel bad, Uncle. But I also feel… relieved. Is that wrong of me?" I asked him.

"No, lass, for I feel the same. Nevermind, Kilmeny. We shall close that chapter of our lives. You have many more delightful ones ahead of you. And you have us, and the Master. He… he…" the old Scotch tongue tripped on the word, but he managed it at last, "He… loves… you."

Smiling brightly, I agreed, "He does, Uncle. I am so glad. And I love him too. Uncle?"

"Yes, lassie?"

"I want to be out and about. I am afraid still, of meeting new people, after so long of not seeing them. But Eric says to start small." I hesitated, trying to get up the courage for my request, "May I go with you to church on Sunday?"

Giving a warm smile, Uncle hugged me tight, "Of course, lassie. It may be hard and difficult at first for you, but we'll be there every step of the way. And… so will Master."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The final chapter! Thank you all who read this little story about my favourite book ever. I really enjoyed writing it and getting into the head of someone who was mute. Happy reading!
> 
>  

 

True to Eric's word, we did have a jolly chat the next afternoon after he finished school. He explained to me, "Now that we have everything settled, Kilmeny, I want to give up teaching and go back home to get it ready for you. There is much to do, dear, and I want our home to be perfect for you."

I smiled at the thought, even though nervous tingles ran through my body at the very mention of leaving home. I did ask him out of curiosity, "What about the school? Did you not say you had to teach for a certain length of time?"

"Yes," he replied, "I did sign papers to teach the Lindsay school for a year, but if I am able to procure a suitable substitute, the trustees will let me off. And I know of a few worth candidates, so that should not pose too much issue. I think what will work best will be to teach until the fall vacation, then I shall go. That will be in October, two months away. Then we can get married right after."

Shaking my head, I denied that, "No, Eric, that is too soon. I should like to learn things before I leave, and I will feel better and more confident once I have learned them. Let's be married in the spring instead, dearest." I smiled at the thought of spring. It was always a season of hope, new life stirring, the promises of a new year begun. Yes, spring would be the best time.

Eric protested immediately, "But spring is too far away, Kilmeny! I wish to be married sooner rather than later. We have waited long enough for this. Why do you wish to wait even longer?"

Aunt and Uncle happened by during this conversation for tea, and to my relief, agreed with me. "Spring sounds like a proper time for marriages, Master," Aunt Janet told him, and added, "And if Kilmeny wishes to wait, I must agree that she is doing the right thing."

Eric tried once more to plead for an earlier wedding date, but I resolutely shook my head. I explained to him, "There are so many things that I must learn yet before I shall be ready to be married, and I want to get accustomed to seeing people. I feel a little frightened yet whenever I see any one I don't know, although I don't think I show it. I am going to church with Uncle and Aunt after this, and to the Missionary Society meetings."

I could understand his excitement to be together after everything that had happened, but I wished to be better around people first. Eric smiled at the church mention, saying, "That is a good start, Kilmeny. I will not be able to sit with you, as I must sit in the Williamson pew, and you must sit in your family pew, but I am not far from you. And I shall be with you immediately after and I can introduce you to some people." He paused and told me, "The Lindsay people are a curious, gossipy folk. They already know about the Neil situation… not that he tried to… but that he scared you and that you can speak. They know he is gone. They may try to ask questions. If you do not feel comfortable with that, just squeeze my hand or give me a signal and I shall whisk you away."

I had held my breath at the thought of all these people asking me questions about my situation, but quickly exhaled it in a laugh at the image of Eric "whisking me away". I nodded sweetly at him, and automatically reached for my slate, then giggled when I remembered I no longer needed it. Clearly this would take time to get used to. I cleared my throat and added, "Uncle Thomas says that he will send me to a boarding school in town this winter if you think it advisable." I had been uncertain about the idea of that, but I could see Uncle's point of view. It would be a good step toward learning to be independent of Uncle and Aunt.

Eric laughed and shook his head immediately, "No, I do not think that is a good idea." He seemed to find the idea amusing, and shook his head again.

Feeling quite relieved that I did not have to go just yet, I smiled at Uncle's nod of consent, then turned back to Eric's grumbling tone, "I can't see why she can't learn all she needs to learn after she is married to me, just as well as before."

Uncle Thomas answered that with a voice of great patience and explained, "But we want to keep her with us for another winter yet. We are going to miss her terrible when she does go, Master. She has never been away from us for a day; she is all the brightness there is in our lives. It is very kind of you to say that she can come home whenever she likes, but there will be a great difference. She will belong to your world and not to ours. That is for the best… and we wouldn't have it otherwise. But let us keep her as our own for this one winter yet."

I felt a flush of love and pride and sadness all rolled into one. I loved my Aunt and Uncle so much, and I would miss them dearly. I felt proud of them for standing up to Eric somehow… he  _could_ be persuasive… but again I felt happy to start this new chapter of my life. It was right. A young woman should leave her childhood home, and be with her lover who would care and protect her all his days. And Eric was the one man for me. It would be a great mixture of emotions when I finally did leave this dear house of mine. And until then, Eric promised to visit me often.

It was Aunt Janet who was very logical, and asked him with concern and interest, "Have you told your father about all this yet?"

A flash of surprise came into Eric's eyes and he slapped his face, "No, I have not. My mind has been so full of everything with Kilmeny and me, what happened and all, that I clean forgot. I shall go home right this minute and write Father a full account of everything. Just so that it does not come as too much of a shock. It is only fair he knows everything from the beginning." Eric gave my hand a squeeze and hurried off to write his letter. I presumed it would be a long one and wondered what Mr. Marshall was like.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activities. Eric brought me schoolbooks that I could study from, and he'd show me how to do certain problems. I also attended church for the first time and, as expected, people stared at me and whispered a lot. I felt terrified at first, but Uncle Thomas whispered to me, "You can lean on my arm, lass, until the Master can get to you." I was glad for his support, then Eric indeed did "whisk me away" and I laughed at his antics as he made me relax. I was still shy being introduced to various people, but the couple I liked best were Mr. and Mrs. Williamson. Mrs. Williamson especially was very nice and had told me in a motherly tone, "I was very good friends with Margaret, dear, and I am so glad that her child is so happy and lucky to have a wonderful beau like the Master. I trust he will be good to you."

I also flung myself back into my music. Now I made the house and the orchard ring with my happy sounds. I felt like I'd found a friend again, since with all my angst and pain, I had been unable to coax a single thing out of my violin. Now the music flowed out of me like the tide pouring into the sands, pushing every obstacle out of the way. I made my violin sing the song of the birds, the wind dancing in the trees, the chorus of the flowers, the whispering of the grass, the roar of the ocean, and the laugh of the brook bubbling along its way. I played of my hopes and dreams, love and joy, and sorrow too, for I must leave everything I knew. But love was the overruling note in my music.

A few days later, I'd sought out the orchard, for it was the best place for me to study, play my music, and dream my dreams. It was an old friend to me, and I spent all my spare time here. I looked up from my book that I had been studying, noticing movement down the lane. I'd been sitting on my favourite bench and watched with curiosity the tall, white haired gentleman that was with Eric. At a glance, I could see that they looked similar, and guessed that this was Eric's father, Mr. Marshall. So he had come in person! He had a firm expression on his face and I saw Eric's slight nervousness.

How glad I was that I was wearing my favourite blue dress! Eric had complimented me on it before, and I did like its simple lines that he said suited my figure. I had also braided my hair into a coronet around my head, and set against my glossy black hair pale white asters. I could feel my face flushing with excitement and a slight bit of nervousness. However, I rose as regally as I could and approached the two men.

"Father, this is Kilmeny," said Eric proudly.

I offered Mr. Marshall my hand, and greeted him, "It is most pleasant to meet you, Mr. Marshall." I flushed again shyly and felt him take my hand, holding it firmly in his. He locked eyes with me, searching my face so piercingly that I could not help but waver in my gaze, though I had been determined to face him. A soft chuckle rose from his throat and I looked back at him again. He pulled me to him and gave my forehead a gentle and fatherly kiss.

His voice was gruff but warm as he nodded to me, "My dear, I am glad and proud that you have consented to be my son's wife… and my very dear and honoured daughter."

Again my cheeks felt rosy and I instantly liked Mr. Marshall. And I was very pleased with this. Mr. Marshall could be the father I never had, and I felt warmth inside me at the thought. I felt as though I had found another family. A father and a husband. "Thank you, Mr. Marshall."

He was wise enough to leave Eric and me alone now, and Eric took me into his arms. "Well, Kilmeny, did you like my father? I was a bit worried, but I shouldn't have been. He was all set to disown me if he had not liked you. His very words, Kilmeny, were 'And if she isn't what your wife ought to be, sir, you give her up or paddle your own canoe. I shall not aid or abet you in making a fool of yourself and spoiling your life.' Goodness gracious. I would have given it all up for you, of course, dear, but…"

My eyes grew wide and I asked, "What did you say to him?"

Eric laughed and said, "The same thing David Baker said to him when Father asked him. 'Wait till you see Kilmeny'. That's all I said. Though my heart was pounding some!"

I giggled and reached up on tiptoes to kiss him. "I'm glad he liked me then. And I love you. I love with all my heart, Eric Marshall. I shall be glad of the day that I am Mrs. Marshall."

Love and pride shone in Eric's eyes. "I like that. Kilmeny Marshall. I love you too, dearest." WIth that, he gave me a kiss. The love flowed like a burning flame around us and in us and shared between us. We, together, were complete. I would gladly make my nest in his tree, and reached up with both hand to cup his face and show him all my love and passion.


End file.
